


Phantasm

by ColorfulCrayola



Series: The Noctivagant Series [1]
Category: Alien Series, Alien vs Predator (2004), Aliens (1986), Predator (1987), Predator Series
Genre: Alien/Human Relationships, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Explicit Language, Gen, Horror, Injury Recovery, Language Barrier, Major Character Injury, Mental Anguish, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Original Character-centric, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, POV First Person, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-AVP:R, Psychological Trauma, Realistic, Revised Version, Science Fiction, Serious Injuries, Slow Build, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 125,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5285453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulCrayola/pseuds/ColorfulCrayola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something crashed deep in the national park, and Nichole Shain finds her home town overrun with military soldiers bent on finding it and keeping the whole town out of the woods. Curiosity and a sense of adventure draw her and her friends into the forest to start their own investigation. However, they find more than debris lurking in those woods. Now she finds herself trapped on an alien ship, fighting for her life against creatures born to do nothing but kill. She's not the only one, though, and she'll have to team up with the ship's resident warrior to make it out alive. As she'll find out, survival comes at a hefty cost. </p><p>"When faced with tragedy, we come alive or we come undone."</p><p>Playlist (in semi-order of relevance):</p><p>Who we Are - Imagine Dragons<br/>Diamond Eyes - Shinedown<br/>Serpentine - Disturbed<br/>Warriors - Imagine Dragons<br/>Coming undone - Korn<br/>Failure - Breaking Benjamin<br/>Famous Last Words - My Chemical Romance<br/>Welcome Home instrumental - Coheed and Cambria<br/>Not Gonna Die - Skillet<br/>Tragedy Time - Rise Against<br/>I am Machine - Three Days' Grace<br/>Black Parade - My Chemical Romance<br/>Diamond Eyes - Deftones (Wolf)<br/>Phantasm by Jesper Kyd</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface: Harness the Light

**Author's Note:**

> I published this story a little less than a year ago on another site. I've started revising it, so these are the revised chapters. I'll post them as I finish the edits. If you want to read the complete fic and its ongoing sequel, you can find me over at fanfiction.net under the same name. You can also find the history lesson of this fic on that profile. :'D It's got a complicated history haha.
> 
> I know all I have up right now are unfinished works but I promise at least two of them are actually finished. XD I just have to move them over and am in the middle of revising them. Hopefully it'll be worth it haha.

_Have to get out._

The gaping hole in his chest dripped gore to the waiting floor below. I was afraid the creature would come back, but I heard no more of its pitiful squeaks or cat-like hisses. It hadn’t looked dangerous, but I knew the thing it turned into would be.

Static and cotton filled my head, blurring my thoughts together. He’d given me advice, told me how to escape, but there was only one thing on my mind. He was _dead_.

His rib-cage had snapped open like brittle twigs.

He was still twitching next to me on the wall. The coppery tint of his blood mixed with the pungent scent of mildew.

My lungs refused to take in oxygen.

_Have to get out._

Unable to focus, my eyes darted unseeing about the room. I drew in ragged breath after ragged breath, always on the cusp of hyperventilating. The danger was ever-present in the back of my mind no matter how panic threatened to drown me—eggs. There were so many of them, and each held a single parasitic organism. Each was ready to latch onto my face, much like the ones obscuring the features of those around me.

Why hadn’t I listened?

The lieutenant visiting school to warn us away.

Military trucks driving toward the forest.

Park rangers and hikers going missing hours after the crash.

My friends were all gone.

_My  fault._

Why hadn’t we listened? This wasn’t a game. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t _any_ of the things we thought it was going to be. Had we really been so delusional to think we’d be able to find and rescue _anyone_? Yeah, sure, we were going to be _internet famous_. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Now they were dead— _my fault_ —and I was going to be soon, as well.

_Have to get out._

I hadn’t known anything in life to be more real than the situation I was in. The eggs—real. An alien ship had crash-landed, not any airplane. The monsters that had chased me and my friends through the woods were real.

Those dead men and women, each missing a section of their chest. . .all real.

And the egg in front of me was real.

Even the spindly creature writhing inside was real.

So much did I want it all to be part of a horrible nightmare. I couldn't deny the reality of my situation any longer, and my heart threatened to explode. The flaps atop the pulsating ova’s crest peeled back. Emaciated limbs mounted the top.

This was it.

This was how I was going to die.

_Fuck._


	2. Up on the Mountain

It was too early.

School was always too fucking early.

Why couldn't it be at nine or ten instead eight? Or not at all? Yeah, I liked that. Not at all. Why hadn't anyone ever thought of that before?

I rolled over with a groan and searched the nightstand for my phone. My fingers brushed it and I lifted my head, eyes squinted. Too far. Too early, too far. I heaved myself forward and used my fingertips to bring it closer before shutting off the alarm.

The grating bell noise ceased and I dropped back into bed without moving back into position. The snooze would go off soon enough, let it do its thing.

Ten seconds later, someone tapped on my door. I pulled my comforter over my head and shut my eyes tight _. Go away, go away._ There was only one person it could be, and this was a weekly thing with her. She meant well, but _go away_.

But, she didn't.

"Nichole? Nichole are you awake sweetie?" Mom cooed through the door.

_Ignore her, ignore her. Five more minutes. Plenty of time._

My door opened and every swear I knew flit through my mind. I tracked her soft footfalls to the edge of my bed and heaved an internal sigh when she touched my shoulder.

"Sweetie?"

She pulled my comforter over my face and brushed my hair back from my face. "It's time to wake up for school, baby girl," she whispered, kissing the top of my head.

"Mo-o-om," I rasped, throat dry from sleep. "I have my alarm set."

Mom made herself comfortable on my bed and picked up my phone. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. Are you going to have enough time to get ready, though?"

"Yes."

"Alright honey." I could hear the smile in her voice. "Don't sleep too much longer. Do you need a ride to school?"

"No."

At last, her weight was removed from my bed. "Okay, I'll see you after school okay? I have to take Alan to school so I’ll be leaving now.”

"Okay."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

My door clicked shut and I dragged the comforter over my head again. The snooze sounded too-soon afterwards; I groaned and sat up to turn it off. It took minutes to dress myself (I showered before bed to avoid waking up even earlier), and  then I  headed downstairs to the kitchen for some food. I couldn't stop yawning.

Atlas greeted me at the bottom, his whole body swaying with the force of his tail wag. I smiled and crouched in front of him, accepting his morning kisses with a scrunched face. "Who's a good boy?" I crooned, scratching his ears. He gave me one last lick, then ran to his water dish.

Kristie was at the dining table, a bowl of cereal in front of her. I grabbed a bagel from the fridge, then waited by the counter for it to toast.

"Morning," I yawned.

"Morning," she muttered.

"You getting a ride from one of your friends?"

"Yup." I didn't miss the eye roll.

Neither of us were morning people, so I left the conversation at that.

The bagel popped and I searched the fridge for the cream cheese—I found it behind the butter tub. My phone buzzed in my pocket while I applied the cream cheese, but I ignored the cell until my hands were free. When I looked, it was a text from Michelle.

_Omw. Eta 2 min._

I poured a glass of milk and sat in my chair next to Kristie. Atlas laid between our chairs with a huff. We finished our respective breakfasts in silence, finishing close to the same time. My phone vibrated again as I finished brushing my teeth, and I assumed it was Michelle. I grabbed my school supplies from their place in my room and called out into the house.

"I'm leaving, lock up when you leave!"

"Okay!"

Michelle's Dodge Neon was already in front of my house and the horn honked a second before I opened the door. "I'm coming, god damn," I muttered. Her passenger seat was empty so I insinuated myself inside and placed my backpack on the floor between my legs. When I buckled up, she drove.

"Hey girl," she greeted me. Too enthusiastic. _Morning people_.

"Morning," I said after suppressing a yawn. "Jess need a ride today?"

"Yeah, I'm going to pick her up now. Your mom and dad leave already?"

"Sure did." I leaned back in my seat and let Michelle's inane chatter wash over me. Maybe if I was lucky, I could sneak in a short nap during the drive over.                

*:･ﾟ✧

There weren’t many main roads in Estes Park. Only Highway 34 and 36 led out of town—the others led to hiking trails or neighborhoods. We had become accustomed to strangers driving in and out: between the trails and park, the town saw many tourists.

Tourists, however, didn’t drive military-grade trucks. There was one such caravan driving through the center of town that Friday morning.

“Are we under siege?” Michelle scoffed.

I rolled my eyes and laid on the sarcasm. “That’s probably exactly what’s going on.”

The trucks zipped past our car in a convoy with half a dozen trucks. The red light seemed like it would never turn green, the train of cars never ending.

Jess leaned toward us from the back seat. “Do you think it’s about the thing that crashed?”

“What crash?”

“Oh shit,” Michelle gasped, drowning out my question, “you’re probably right.”

“What crash?” I asked louder.

The light turned green at last and Michelle pulled forward. She glanced at me side-long and said, “Are you serious right now? How could you not know? It’s been all over the news this morning!”

It was too early in the morning for her nonsense. I let another yawn take me away before I responded. “I don’t watch the news, sorry. I woke up like five minutes before you showed up at my house, anyway.”

“Well there’s _no_ _way_ you could have slept through it,” Michelle insisted.

“Slept through _what_? What crashed?”

“Woke me up,” Jess muttered.

When I was ready to slap a bitch, Michelle deigned to elaborate. “Something crashed in the middle of the night. Somewhere in the mountain nearby, past the park. I thought the world was ending! Did you seriously not wake up at all?”

I shook my head and rested against my seat. “Nope. Slept like a baby all night.”

“Christ you must be a heavy sleeper.”

“My mom always said I could sleep through a tornado.”

Michelle huffed and turned into the high school. “Well, check your Facebook! I'm sure you can find a billion pictures and links to the news reports and shit.”

“Yeah okay, I’ll get right on that.”

She parked and we all clambered out of her car, carrying our bags. There was a larger concentration of our classmates than usual in front of the entrance, so we met up with them. I pulled my jacket closer and hunched up against the chill. The group was huddled around Jake and his tablet. As we neared, various sounds wafted toward us.

Michelle pranced up to him, then wedged herself between him and the others. “Are you guys watching it? How’s the quality?” She clasped her hands around his waist.

“Shaky but watchable,” he responded, pausing long enough to peck her on the cheek.

Jess and I took up our spots in the crowd and tried to take a peek. The video ended as soon as we arrived, and we were only able to see semi-blurry shapes moving around.

“Restart it babe! We missed it,” Michelle whined, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She was less dressed than the rest of us despite the weather. If we went inside to watch, though, we'd earn a scolding from the first teacher who saw us. We were only safe outside.

Jake obliged tapped the replay button. There was some fumbling and muffled static until the picture cleared. The man holding the camera shouted and turned the lens skyward.

A massive fireball careened from the sky, lighting the dark night in an eerie glow of orange and red. My eyes widened and I moved closer, the cold forgotten for a moment. Whoever filmed the phenomenon had broken all the rules of phone recording. Not only was the video unstable, but it was also vertical. Beggars can't be choosers, though. After a few seconds, the flames flickered and faded, leaving a vague shape instead—huge. Whatever it was, it was massive. After that, it disappeared into the tree line and the earth trembled from impact.

All the while, the camera man shouted various exclamations and questions. The video continued for a few more seconds, the night still and quiet.

“What the hell?” I whispered.

Someone from behind pointed their finger at the screen. “That looks like something burned up in re-entry.”

“What?” Jake glanced over his shoulder, brows furrowed.

“Yeah! Like, re-entry. When something breaks into our atmosphere.”

Mutters broke out, but the crowd was beginning to disperse. I shuffled toward the door as well, no longer willing to stand out in the cold. However, Jake’s next question still made it to my ears before I made it inside.

“How would you know that? It could be something exploded.”

Whatever the answer was, it was drowned out by the warning bell. Jess scurried along at my shoulder, cheeks and nose rosy from the biting chill.

“What do you think it was?” she asked me.

I said nothing while concentrating on opening my locker. When it was open, I said, “I don’t know. I hope it wasn’t a commercial flight exploding or something. I don’t think anyone would have survived that.”

She sighed and opened her own locker, two away from mine. “Yeah, definitely.”

“I don’t think it would be, though. The military wouldn’t be showing up for a commercial flight. Maybe a jet crashed.”

Jess shrugged. “Maybe more information will be released later.”

“Yeah. . .maybe.”

We gathered our belongings for our first period (both Jess and I shared morning economics) and hurried up the stairs. I sat in my seat at the same time the final bell rang. Ignoring Mr. Kinkaid’s greeting, I spent a moment setting up my notebook and texts.

 _Re-entry_. The phrase repeated over in my head as the lecture on stock markets droned on. Had a shuttle or a satellite crashed?

Or maybe. . .a spaceship? I smirked. _Wishful thinking_.

*:･ﾟ✧

The familiar voice of our principal interrupted my regularly scheduled second period English class. I kept scribbling while she crackled over the intercom.

“Good morning Bobcats. At this time we will be holding a mandatory assembly. I apologize for interrupting your classes, but it is very important that everyone attends. Once again, we are going to be holding a mandatory assembly. Please make your way to the gymnasium promptly. Thank you.”

My classroom was awash with the sounds of scraping chairs and annoyed groans. I set down my pencil and stood with the rest, then followed them out into the hall.

Once inside the gym, I searched the bleachers for any familiar faces.

Michelle, now dressed in gym class attire, was waiting at the top of the bleachers. I bounded up the steps to sit next to her and she scooted over for me.

“What’s this about?” I asked.

She shrugged and smoothed out her pony tail. “No clue, but whatever gets me out of playing volleyball is fine with me.”

“Oh, we’re doing volleyball this month? That’s cool,”

“Please." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Give me a game where I can smack something real hard with a bludgeon.”

I chuckled. “That’s a violent way to think about it.”

“Got a lotta aggression to work out,” she teased, flexing her non-existent arm muscles.

“What’s the difference between smacking something with a racket and slapping a ball with your hands?” I reasoned while scanning the crowd for Jess.

“Um, everything? Smacking that thing hurts my hands and wrists and I _always_ get hit in the head at some point or another. It’s the worst. I don’t know how you can stand in the goal box during a game, knowing you could be kicked or take a ball to the face at any time,” she huffed.

“I have confidence in my skills,” I shrugged.

Students continued to file into the gymnasium. Jess trailed in with the third wave, and I stood to wave at her. She smiled when she saw me and climbed the steps.

“Hey,” she greeted us.

Michelle and I returned her sentiment, though Michelle wasn't giving us her full attention. That was dedicated to finding her boyfriend. Jake and his friends joined us soon enough, and we were all atwitter about the events of the past night. When the principal appeared and called for silence, it took a few minutes for the crowd to fall quiet.

“Good morning, Bobcats. How is everyone doing today?” Our principal, Mrs. Larsen, spoke into the microphone perched on its stand.

A few of the die-hard patriots muttered a response, but no one else bothered. Mrs. Larsen ignored our apathy and clapped her hands together. “Good, good. I’m sure you’re all wondering why we’ve called this emergency assembly, and we’ll try to keep this short.”

“Is it about the thing that crashed?” someone from the senior side of the bleachers shouted.

Mrs. Larsen lifted her hand to shush him, then indicated toward a man in army fatigues. He stood at the back of the gym and nodded. “We have a guest speaker today who would like to address everyone about the events that took place last night. Please give a warm welcome to Lieutenant Anderson and _be polite_.”

A few more than ten people clapped for our guest speaker, and the lieutenant stepped up to the microphone. He adjusted the stand, then looked up at us all to speak.

“Hello students. My name is Lieutenant Anderson and I’m with the United States Armed Forces. Thank you for having me today and gathering so quickly.” The soldier cleared his throat and scanned the stands. “I’m sure most of you are aware that something crashed in the nearby woods late last night, hours before dawn.”

Murmurs broke out until Lieutenant Anderson waved his hands and everyone settled. “Your principal has agreed to print out a newsletter to give you all. Please take it home and show it to your parents immediately.”

“What was it?” the same senior from before shouted.

“I’m afraid that’s classified at the moment,” he said, his voice sharp. “However, due to the several disappearances that have happened over the past eight hours, the national park will be closed until we can clean up the mess and track down the missing persons.”

He spent the next few minutes trying to quiet us down. I turned to my friends and whispered, “People disappeared? Who?”

Michelle and Jess looked clueless, but Jake’s friend had lost all the color from his face.

Jake glanced between everyone, then put his hand on Tyler’s shoulder and addressed us. “A few rangers went missing I guess, maybe some campers.”

“How do you know?” Jess asked.

“Bobcats please!” Mrs. Larsen interjected, her voice booming over the microphone. “There is no need for you to worry! The lieutenant and the rest of the Army will take care of everything. Settle down and let our guest finish.”

Tyler cleared his throat and I glanced at him. His hands were fists against his legs. I said, “Maybe they haven’t come back yet. It only happened a little bit ago, they can’t have _disappeared_.”

“Maybe,” Michelle and Jake muttered together.

After another stern command from Mrs. Larsen, the chatter petered out into silence.   

“We’re asking everyone to _stay out_ of the woods until further notice. We’ll be setting up a perimeter, and anyone found encroaching will be turned away and anyone found on the other side of that boundary or in the woods without permission _will_ be arrested and detained for 24 hours.”

Next to us, Jake scoffed and crossed his arms. Michelle brushed against and shushed him, but he had a devious smile on his face. Tyler was glaring at his lap, his face red.

I tore my gaze from them to listen to the lieutenant. “We will not tolerate anyone bothering the rest of my soldiers, either. We expect everyone to take this seriously, and if you do not you will be dealt with swiftly and severely. Thank you.”

When he stepped away from the microphone, the principal replaced him. “Lieutenant Anderson is right, students. Anyone they catch will also be facing suspension or even expulsion. This is very serious. Expect those newsletters before the end of the day. Now, please return to your classes in a timely manner.”

A clamor settled over the stands as everyone spoke at once. Jake leaned on top of Michelle and grinned. “I think we should find out what’s in the forest.”

“What? No way!” Michelle squeaked, slapping his shoulder.

Our group remained seated while the rest of the students filed out of the gym. Jake wrapped his arms around Michelle’s center and set his chin on top of her head. “I’m totally serious. We’ll figure out that secret.”

“And how do you suppose we do that, babe?”

“You mean like. . . .” I paused to glance around and make sure there were no teachers listening in. “Go out into the woods and look for what crashed?”

He nodded to me and grinned. “Yeah, see. Nichole gets it.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Jess warned. “What if someone gets hurt or we end up arrested and in jail like the guy said?”

Michelle snickered. “When has anything exciting like this happened? The only problems we have here are people getting gored by elk or lost in the woods. This could be something that puts us on the map for this dumb town!”

“We already _are_ on the map,” I argued. “People are always visiting!”

“Whatever you say. I’m with Jake.”

His friends chimed in as well, even Tyler, who was still tight-fisted next to Jake. “I’ll go. Maybe I’ll be able to find my dad.”

My heart went out to him, but he seemed more angry than worried.

“What’s the plan, babe?” Michelle asked, expression smug. She and her boyfriend parted when a teacher gave them the stink-eye.

The teacher huffed and beckoned toward us. “Go back to your classes. This isn’t social hour.”

Jake smirked at him and then lowered his voice further. “We’ll talk about it at lunch.”

Eyes rolling, I turned to Jess and stood. “Have fun playing volleyball, Michelle,” I teased, ambling down the bleachers.

She glanced down at Coach Jenner setting the nets back up and grimaced. “Dammit, why couldn’t this stupid assembly have gone on longer? Ugh. . . . Well, catch you guys at lunch,” she grumbled. Michelle kissed Jake at the bottom of the bleachers and joined the rest of the students in her course. Though we parted from Jake and his friends, Jess trailed after me.

“Are you going to go with them? The principal said anyone caught by the woods would be suspended and stuff.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I guess I’ll have to hear Jake’s ‘plan’ first. But I guess it could be kinda fun. We’d just have to not get caught. And if playing Manhunt is any indication of our prowess, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah but,” she said in exasperation, “we play that against each other, not trained soldiers. And we’re always in the cul-de-sac, not out in the woods!”

“Just means more places to hide,” I ribbed, pushing her shoulder.

Jess scowled and stopped in front of her classroom. “Whatever. I guess I’ll see you at lunch.”

“You betcha. I never miss pizza day.” I smiled and she managed to return the gesture despite her obvious trepidation. “It’ll be okay. I’m sure no one will follow through with this crazy scheme anyway. See you later!”

As she disappeared into her class, I turned and headed toward my own and wondered what kind of bright ideas Jake had for us this time.

*:･ﾟ✧         

The teachers did their best to conduct class as normal, but despite their best efforts, we couldn’t bring ourselves to pay attention. We spent most of our time passing notes about the incident, or whispering to one another. Never about the course material, either. The crash was all we thought about.

Even if the teacher managed to bring us back, it never lasted long.

When the final bell rang, I worked on shoving my things into my backpack as the teacher went over the homework. She shouted over the rowdy students, and I hurried to write down what she wanted us to do. After saying what she'd meant to, she released us.

I filed out after the rest and was swept up in the tide. When I reached my locker, I broke the crowd to grab a few things.

“Hey, Nichole,” Jess said, tapping me on the back. I glanced at her and tipped my head in greeting as she opened her own locker. “What’s your plan after school today? Any soccer practice or anything like that?”

“No practice until spring, around March. It’s the off-season now. If we had an indoor arena we’d maybe do one practice a week, but. . .no such luck.”

“So who’s driving you home? Michelle or your parents?”

“Oh.” I found a place for my forgotten notebook in my backpack and zipped it shut. “My mom’s gonna be picking me up, she called earlier and told me she was off work early.”

“Ah, ok. Mine, too. Probably has something to do with the crash. Any plans for the weekend?”

We rejoined the wave of students heading toward the exit and I said,“Dunno yet. Have to see whether or not I’ll be spending it in jail or dead.

Though I meant it as a joke, Jess didn’t seem to find it funny and shot me a glare. I rolled my eyes and walked into her on purpose. “Oh come on, I’m kidding. Besides, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“You already convinced me to go. I don’t want to be left out.”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” I pointed out. “But if we _do_ wind up in jail, you can just tell us you told us so. We’ll tell them we kidnapped you or something, so they’ll let you go.”

She shook her head and forced a smile I saw right through. “Nah, it’s fine. . .your best friend is the one sitting next to you in the cell and saying ‘we had one hell of a night’, right?” I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince me or herself.

I giggled and nodded in encouragement. “Damn right.”

After saying our good-byes, we parted and I hurried into the parking lot. I pulled my jacket tight around my frame and looked for my mom's car. The tall, red Jeep stood out to me and I hopped into the passenger’s side, surprised to see it empty.

“Where’s Kristie?” I asked, my buckle snapping into place.

Mom backed the car up and joined the queue to leave. “She’s staying over at a friend’s house tonight, so they’re taking her home.”

Whatever, meant shotgun belonged to me.

“How was school?” she asked. Something told me she was asking a much different question.

“Fine. Pretty standard. Some guy from the military came and told everyone to stay out of the forest until they clean up what crashed.” I dug around in my backpack until I found the sheet of paper I was looking for. “Everyone in school got this little newsletter about it.”

Though she took it from me, she set it on her lap after a short glance. “Okay, I’ll read it when we get home. Though I’m sure I already know what it’s about.”

“How?”

“They closed down the park. Can’t sell parking passes if no one can get in. So, looks like I’ll be home until the park opens again,” she sighed.

Frowning, I asked, “Will you still get paid?”

She shook her head. “I can use my vacation time if I want, but otherwise no. They might compensate us, but I don’t know.”

“Well that’s rude.”

“That’s business.”

“What about Dad?”

“Your father doesn’t work at the park,” she said, giving me a strange look. “None of this will affect him. Unless maybe his boss went missing.”

Shrugging, I muttered, "I was just wondering."

"And I was just telling you." Her voice was patronizing and she reached out to stroke my head. I ducked out of the way.

Mom scoffed and reached further over. “You let your mother touch you!”

“Mo-o-m!” I whined, batting her hand away.

She relented and slouched in her chair with a pout. “Fine.”

Rolling my eyes, I turned to the window and stared at the road. It was going to be harder to leave the house unnoticed if Mom didn’t work: she would stay up later than normal. The weekends were her busiest days at the park.

At least the plan was set for midnight. It was difficult, but doable. Mom wouldn’t stay up that late, but she wouldn’t be sound asleep like I’d been banking on, either. Dad always went to bed early so I wasn't worried about him.

I would have to make an extensive plan to sneak out unnoticed.


	3. The Warning Signs

My phone buzzed around midnight, waking me up. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep waiting for my mom to go to bed, but I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes open. A glance at the clock on my nightstand informed me I had only been asleep for five or six minutes.

Rubbing my eyes, I pulled the comforter over my head to hide the light. I squinted as the backlit screen assaulted my eyes, and it took a few seconds for them to adjust. Somehow I was able to make out the words through the glare.

_Where r u? Did u chicken out?_

It was from Michelle. I lowered the blanket and checked the sliver under my door.

Everything was dark, but it had been only minutes ago the lights were on and Mom was watching television. I chewed on my lip and covered myself again to reply.

_One sec Mom just went to bed. Need a couple more minutes_

I set my phone on my chest and waited for it to buzz—ten seconds. I let it sit for a few more seconds while I listened for anything suspect going on downstairs or in the hall. Atlas shuffled around in his kennel, but there was no other signs of life outside my room.

Convinced I was safe, I picked up my phone and checked the text.

_Well hurry! I’m parked at the end of ur block_

_Alright BRT_

To be safe, I waited another five minutes before crawling out of bed. I had picked out my clothes before bed, aiming for anything warm and dark. In the end I'd settled on my heavy, dark green winter jacket and a dark pair of jeans. The jeans alone weren't warm, so I put on a pair of long underwear used for our camping trips. It took an extra minute or two to dress in silence, and I slipped on my heavy hiking books. Tip-toeing to the door, I listened for sound.

Nothing. So far so good.

However, when I cracked my door open, the hinges whined in protest and I winced, ceasing all movement.  After a brief pause to make sure no was coming to investigate, I closed the door behind me and strafed to the bathroom.

The light from the streetlamp outside shone inside the bathroom and I moved with confidence throughout the bathroom without the need to flip the switch. I shut myself inside and shuffled to the window, making sure to keep my footfalls light in my otherwise heavy shoes.

Inside the pocket to my jacket, my phone buzzed and I swore under my breath.

_???_

My friend was devoid any trace of patience. Sneaking out of the house was a skill in and of itself, taking time and perseverance. . .it was an art that shouldn’t be rushed. I shook my head and jabbed at the keys on my phone.

_Hold on sneaking out now_

Rolling my eyes, I shoved the cell in my pocket with the intent to ignore it. I had a plan to execute and couldn't let anything distract me. Leaving out of my bedroom window would have been a straight two-story drop, but not from the bathroom. A section of the roof jutted out in front of it at an angle, giving me a shorter distance to the ground.  The doors were a no-go, as well: Atlas would never let me leave that way without making a fuss.

It took a few moments for me to unscrew the screen, and I popped it out after some struggle. I wasn't able to catch it before it fell out and I clenched my eyes shut when it thumped against the roof. Everything was still for a moment, and then I scrambled to escape.

_Please let no one have heard that._

I climbed out of the small window, using the toilet to boost me up. It was too small to offer any comfort, and I ended up worming head-first onto the roof. My jacket snagged on a splinter during the task, but I was able to free it with a bit of dexterity and flexibility.

If anyone was watching, I no doubt looked ridiculous.

There was no way I could screw the screen back into its slot from where I stood. Instead, I set it against the glass once I'd closed the window. Satisfied it looked convincing enough, I crouched low and moved to the edge of the roof.                

My heart thudding against my ribs as if to free itself. Every sound I made seemed amplified as I lowered myself to the roof, dangling by my hands.

_Hurry, someone’s going to hear_.

There was a gap of a few feet below me, but I was confident I’d I could stick the landing. I counted to three, then dropped and hit the ground with minor discomfort and a slight ache in my ankles. Ignoring the pain, I jogged around the house and exited my backyard through the gate. Inside, Atlas  was making chuffing noises, threatening to give me away. Once away from the back door, though, he ceased.

Hugging the wall of my house, I kept my body low and invisible. I jogged across the neighbor's yards until I felt I was far enough away too walk on the sidewalk.

Once my house was out of sight, I was walking on air and elated. I'd done it. I jogged the distance to Michelle’s car and slid into the back seat, expecting an occupied front seat. To avoid further noise, I was careful when closing the door.

However, Michelle and I were alone.

“Where’s Jake?” I asked as she pulled away from the corner.

“He and his friends went earlier for reconnaissance or something dumb. He’s been live texting me since, like, eleven,” she scoffed. As if on cue, her phone lit up where it sat in her cup holder. She ignored it. “Am I picking up Jess or is she gonna stay home?”

I crawled into the front seat, then buckled up. “Last I heard she was still coming.”

“Text her and let her know we’re on our way, then.”

Nodding, I pulled my phone free from my coat pocket and relayed the message. It took a few moments for Jess to reply, but she was still on board.

“She says you can pull up right to her house. Her parents aren’t home.”

Michelle huffed. “Lucky. I had to pretend to go to bed super early and then wait for them to go. Still didn’t take as long as yours did!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I sighed. “I had to climb out a window.”

“Your room?”

“No, the bathroom. On the second floor.” I puffed out my chest and smirked.

Even in the dark I could tell she was rolling her eyes. When she spoke, though, she couldn't hide her awe—no matter how hard she tried to play it off. “Managed not to kill yourself at least.”

“It was either that or risk Atlas waking up the whole house.”

We pulled up in front of Jess’ house and I texted to let her know. Michelle checked her own messages while we waited, and two minutes later Jess was sat in the back seat. We spent a moment greeting each other before Michelle drove us toward the park.

Curiosity—or concern—had been eating me the entire ride to her house. When I could contain it no longer, I turned to ask, “Why aren't your parents at home?”

“Dad left a note,” she said, not taking her eyes from the window. “Didn’t say much, though. Just that they’d be gone until real late. Or early, depending on how you look at it. They’re usually out late but never at this time of the night.”

“Are you worried?”

“Not really,” she lied, unable to look me in the face. "They go to all the town meetings, so that’s where they could be. Sometimes they run longer than normal. I don’t think they have a reason to go to the park when they work at the stables."

"Oh, well that's a relief. My parents never go to those stupid things. Do they ever make you go with them?"

She shrugged but said nothing. I couldn't tell if it was because she was worried or didn't want to talk to me. I grimaced and settled back into my seat without saying more. I knew she didn’t want to be on this trip, but I was making an effort to keep her spirits up. The least she could do was talk to me.

Or she could have just not come.

Halfway to our stop, Michelle was stricken with a bout of energy. She wiggled in her seat and squealed, “This is so exciting! I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”  Halfway to the spot we were to ditch the car, Michelle wiggled in her seat and squealed. “This is so exciting! I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

“Me either,” Jess muttered behind me. I wasn’t sure if I was meant to hear, so I ignored it.

Michelle motioned to the case sitting on the seat next to Jess. “I brought my mom’s camera so we can record video with _good_ quality and take so many pictures! We can put them up later on the internet and be _so famous_!”

Jess added, “If we don’t get caught.”

“Well,” Michelle hummed, “We’ll need a good attitude about it and we’ll be fine. Don’t bring us down with your negativity.”

I shot her a look and scolded her with a sharp, “Be nice!”

She shook her head and said, “I am! I was just _teasing_ , god.”

Unconvinced, I turned in my seat to encourage Jess with a smile, but her attention was out the window. I  sat back and glowered at the glove compartment. Fine, I'd change the subject, instead. “What has Jake been saying in his texts?”

“He told me where to ditch the car, but now he’s telling me it doesn’t matter?”

“What doesn't matter?”

Michelle stole a glance to the cup holder then picked up her phone. She turned on the screen and said, “Yeah, he says he hasn’t seen anyone patrolling so far. No soldiers or anything.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I thought it was weird, too.”

Jess spoke up then. “Just because he can’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not there, though. It’s dark and they have like. . .camouflage outfits.”

“That’s true.”

After an annoyed huff Michelle said, “Well that’s just what he said! I’m not there, I don’t know what’s going on.”

Her phone clattered into the cup holder, punctuating the tension in the air. I sighed and wished they would get along with each other. “The guy mentioned they’d be setting up a perimeter or something, didn’t they? He should have seen some unless they skirted around them too wide," I said.

“I still think they’re hidden,” Jess muttered.

“No,” I mused. “Why would they hide? They’d put up cones and shit so people know where to avoid. I mean, unless they already finished their work and left.”

“Left where? Someone would have seen them go and we would have called this off.”

Jess nodded. “I’m with Michelle. They couldn’t have left unnoticed.”

“Yeah I guess so.” It was the closest thing to behaving they had done all night. I would take what they would give me.

We came to the conclusion to play it safe, anyway. Michelle pulled off into an empty lot and parked the car in a dark corner. Her Neon wouldn’t exactly blend in with its silver paint job, but it would work. “We’ll hoof it from here and meet up with them in the woods.”              

All three of us climbed from the vehicle, unconcerned about being spotted—Estes Park was a day time destination. At night, especially in late fall and winter, it was too cold to do anything outside of town once the sun set, not to mention passed midnight—and scurried toward the tree line where we would be under cover.

“Do you know the way?” I asked Michelle.

She waved her hand and nodded. “Yeah, sure. He sent me step by step pictures and a walkthrough on how to walk into the park.” Her sarcasm could cut if she tried hard enough, and I rolled my eyes at her.

“You sure we can just. . .walk in?” Jess whispered.

She checked her phone once more then nodded. "He's going to meet us a little ways ahead and lead us around a few patrolling cops. I guess Victor was almost caught.”

"See? Oh my god, this is so stupid," Jess whimpered, clutching the hem of my jacket.

I let her cling and motioned toward Michelle. "You got your camera?"

"Yup, let's go." She didn't wait for any more complaints, and I proud of her for leaving Jess alone this time. We followed after her, jogging deep into the trees.              

*:･ﾟ✧

During the day, the Rocky Mountain National Park was beautiful. This time of the year, when the leaves were changing color, it was at its best. Orange and yellow leaves against the white aspen trunks. . .it was a thing of art. Autumn was our busiest tourist season, bringing people from all over to see the leaves change.

At night, though, they were all the same color. A macabre filter of black against black.

Walking through the darkened trees was reaching uncanny proportions. Every rustle of the trees set my nerves on edge and lit the fuse to my fight or flight response.

It was terrifying. It was creepy.

It was _thrilling._

The closest I had ever gotten to thrills of this caliber was during Halloween. Even if I couldn't convince my friends to come with me, Mom and Kristie would accompany me to a haunted house. It was the same adrenaline spike that drew me to roller coasters.

Maybe the situation wasn’t quite the same, but I had no other comparisons. There were real threats here; losing our way, officers or soldiers catching us, and maybe even danger. If I sat and thought about what we were doing, my logical side said it was a bad idea. The thrill-seeking side didn’t care. The heightened senses and tingling in my body was too tempting.

The three of us waited behind an autumn-kissed bushed for Jake to meet us. The ticket booths were several yards, hidden in the thicket. I didn't know how long we'd been waiting, but it seemed like forever. We could see the flashing lights of patrol cars between the branches.

If we hadn’t been looking for them, we never would have spotted them.

“This is a terrible idea, guys,” Jess whispered in our ears. It was the third time in the span of three minutes. “We’re gonna get caught.”

“Not if you keep _quiet,_ dammit Jess just _shhhh_!” Michelle hissed.

I sighed and shook my head. Everyone was on edge and the two of them were fighting way more than often, leaving me to mend the rift. It was often that way, making me wonder why we were all friends still—was it old times’ sake? We had been friends since elementary, after all.

High school was supposed to be when big changes happened. Maybe we were all holding on to our old memories in an attempt to keep the group together.

Or maybe I was reading too much into a stressful situation.

“Guys,” I murmured, “Keep your voices low. Jake will be here soon.”

Michelle nodded and shifted anxiously where she crouched. “Yes, okay, that’s what I’ve been trying to say.”

Another five minutes passed before we spotted Jake's familiar form. He doubled back, giving us a wide berth, then scuttled up behind us. He took Michelle's hand when she offered it and grinned at us. "Sup guys."

"Babe what took you? We've been waiting ages."

He dipped his head. "Sorry, we had to go way deep to keep off the radar. There are only a couple cops out there, but we wanted to make sure we were outside their patrol radius."

"Okay, so what's the plan?" I asked.

“Alright,” Jake murmured, pulling Michelle back with him. Jess and I followed. “We’ll fly dark for now, and we have to go real wide, okay? Follow me, though. It's just a bit of extra walking.”

We agreed and Jake led us onward, avoiding any clearings and sticking to the shadows. The flashing sirens disappeared behind us, and there was a moment where I was certain the cops could hear my pulse.

None of us dared speak the entire time, the only sound the muffled crunch of leaves under our boots. The hike lasted fifteen agonizing moments until we crested the hill. Whispers echoed toward us and we approached with caution.

“Is that them?” I asked under my breath.

“Yeah,” Jake responded. “Let’s go.”

He led us down the other side of the hill and pulled a flashlight. At our approach, several other lights flicked in our direction and the tension was palpable.

“Just us,” Jake called. Everyone sighed a collective breath of relief.

“Scared us half to death, man,” Tyler jittered, clapping Jake on the back. “Glad you finally made, though. We were about to leave without you.”

I looked around at the others and motioned toward them. “Who are all these people?”

Several other students were gathered around, shivering and talking. Half of them I didn't know, and the other half I recognized in face only. People from my classes, but not friends or acquaintances. I thought they were speaking a bit too loud, but maybe that just meant we were far enough away.       Jake glanced back at the others and shrugged. “We ended up telling a few more friends what we were doing. They brought some of their own friends. Safety in numbers, right?”

“I don’t think that applies when you’re trying to be sneaky,” Jess pointed out.

Michelle draped her arms around Jake and shrugged. “It’ll be fine! We already dodged the cops and you guys haven’t seen any soldiers, right?”

“Not hide nor hair,” someone assured us.

A boy I recognized from my math class indicated toward the trees. I think he was the Victor Jess had mentioned earlier. “I think we should start that way. There was some police tape wrapped around the trees.”

“It was torn though,” Rick, from Jake’s group, said.

“Torn?” I repeated.

Jake waved his flashlight and called to the others. “Alright, this should be everyone, right? Let’s get going before people start realizing we’re gone.”

“Shouldn’t someone stay behind if someone else shows up?”

“Yeah, okay,” Jake said. “Who wants to volunteer to stay behind by themselves and wait for stragglers to show up?”

When no one spoke up, he chuckled. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“You snooze you lose,” Michelle agreed.

With that, we moved as one into the woods. Like Victor said, we walked past the police tape tied around a few tree trunks. Michelle took a picture of the dangling yellow strips as they twitched in the breeze. I stopped to pick up one of the ends, examining the tattered material.

“Don’t fall behind!” Michelle hissed at me from ahead.

I dropped the tape and jogged to catch up. “Coming, sorry.” 

*:･ﾟ✧

“Anyone know where we’re going?” I asked, my arms wrapped around myself. “How deep this thing is supposed to be?”

Jake answered first. “No one knows. Maybe we should spread out.”

“Splitting up is a stupid idea. Haven’t you seen _any_ horror movie?” his friend Tyler snorted.

“Not _split up_ ,” Jake snapped. “ _Spread out_. Like in a search party.”

Michelle clung to Jake’s arm and nodded. “Yeah! We’ll cover more ground and still be within shouting distance of each other, right?”

“Um, probably _seeing_ distance,” Jake amended. “Everyone got a light?”

Those who carried flashlights waved them around. Those without pulled out their phones and warmed up the flashlight feature.

“Is this good enough?” I asked, waving my phone.

“Yeah, sure.”

Our band of teenagers expanded outward, forming smaller groups or single parties. Jess opted to remain at my side, and I was glad for the company. There wasn’t much to talk about as we searched, and our crunching footsteps punctuated the silence. The light of my phone guided us through the night. Every few minutes, Michelle would take pictures of something inane.

“Can we take a break?” Jess panted. I wasn’t sure how far we had walked, but it had been well past an hour since we’d begun the search.

“I’ll ask.” I turned from her and shouted to the others. “Hey guys, five minute break?”

The hike was nothing compared to conditioning practices, but we had a diverse group of people. Not everyone would be in the same shape I was. So, it wasn’t a surprise when mutters and groans of agreement rippled through everyone. Soon enough we grouped up again.

“Anyone bring some water?” someone called.

A few people presented bottles of water to pass around and I grimaced at my own oversight. At least some people had been thinking. I chalked it up to poor planning and nerves on my part.

Michelle sat with Jake and his friends, so I sat with Jess. . .though everyone was within speaking distance of one another. Michelle shot to her feet as soon as she sat and arched her back with a squeal. All eyes turned toward her as she brushed something from her butt before performing the “ants in my pants” dance.

“Babe what’s up?” Jake asked, gripping her arm.

“I sat in something wet and nasty!” she wailed.

I made my way to her, sweeping my light over the log she’d sat atop. “What could you have sat in? Melted ice or something?”

“I don’t know!” she whined, brushing her pants off. “I sat on some—stupid slug or something? I don’t know it’s slimy and nasty! Ew, ew, get it off me!” She dropped to the floor and wiped her hands on a patch of green weeds.

Jake joined her to try and help, but I just giggled. “Ew don’t sit on slugs, man. . . .”

Jess looked confused. “Are there even slugs out here? I mean. . .isn’t it a bit cold?” she asked, kneeling by the log and beckoning to me.

“How would I know, Jess?” Marie snapped, rubbing her palms against the side of her pants.

We left the irritated Michelle to her whimpering and I crouched next to Jess. I wanted to see this mysterious slug myself, but all we found was a puddle of something opaque and viscous. I reached out to touch it and Jess shuddered next to me.

“The hell is this?” I whispered more to myself than to anyone.

It was slimy and felt disgusting. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew that I wanted it _off_ so I shook my hand before wiping it off on my jacket. “Nasty ass. . .slime shit,” I muttered.

“Why’d you touch it?” Jess snickered.

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m actually two years old and learn by touching stuff,” I berated myself, sighing.

She shook her head and took a bottle full of water, offered to her by one of the boys. We passed it on to the next person after Jess and I had our share. Then, we took a seat far away from the slime to enjoy the rest of our break. Our cold, cold break. I wanted to return to hiking so I could start warming up through exercise again.

“How much further do you think this thing is?” Jess asked over the sound of the others.

“Who knows, but it sure is getting colder. It might even snow if we’re out here any longer,” I surmised. I peered at the dark through the tree tops, and saw nothing but inky black.

She rubbed at her sore legs and chewed on her lip. “Will we be able to find our way back?”

Shrugging, I said, “I’m sure we will. Someone here has to have a working GPS. Even if we do get lost someone will be able to lead us back to town.” A shadow flit across the corner of my eye and I snapped my head that way to look, but there was nothing.

“Alright let’s get back at it! We’ve got more ground to cover,” one of the guys shouted as he stretched to his feet. In the darkness it was hard to make out faces.

“How far do we need to go?”

“Shouldn’t we give up and go back?”

“No way! Let’s go!”

It was Michelle who spoke up next, clinging to Jake’s arm. Most everyone was shivering. “I mean we’re not keeping anyone here, if you want to go back go ahead and go back!”

Though some did consider it, no one was keen on leaving the pack. We spread out into the search line again and began the hike. Some conversations whispered on the wind, but Jess and I remained quiet. She was holding on to my jacket, as if afraid to lose me, and I didn't mind. This way, I didn't lose her, either.

“What are we even looking for?” One of the other girls shouted after a few minutes.

No one had an answer until ten minutes later. Victor waved his flashlight in an erratic spotlight and shouted to us. “Over here! I found a fence!”       

Our group came together and gathered around the wire fence. We couldn’t tell what it was for until I turned my phone's light onto the trees. They were limp and hanging, leaves littering the ground in varying shades. Smaller trees had toppled to rest against the forest floor, roots upturned. Some trunks had snapped clean in half. The destruction only seemed to worsen further into the woods.

“There are some tire tracks over here, leading into. . .that,” one of the other girls said, crouching on the ground. 

“What do you think caused it?” Tyler asked.

“Whatever crashed here, obviously,” Michelle scoffed. Her camera flash blinded us all for a second or two. “Let’s follow it.”

“You think the wires are electric?” Victor asked.

“Touch it and find out.”

“I’m not touching it, you touch it.”

The boys argued for a while about who was going to touch the fence. I stood back and examined the tree line some more: whatever crashed there had to have been big. A chill chased tremors down my spine and something dark flit past the edges of my light. My heart skipped a beat.

Jess seemed to have noticed it as well:

All at once the hair on the back of my neck to stood on end. I whipped my light around to illuminate the woods; nothing there was nothing but trees and bushes. Jess clutched at my jacket and I didn’t pull away.

“Nichole, what was that?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, maybe a deer or something.” I didn’t know who I was trying to convince more. Someone was watching us, that was certain. We weren’t the only ones feeling the heebie jeebies. Those not caught up in the argument were looking around the woods.

We didn’t have time to be arguing.

“Alright _I’ll_ do it!” I growled, marching up to the fence and grabbing the wire.

“Nichole!” Jess whined, running to my side.

Nothing happened, though. There was no spark, no course of electricity through my body. I released the wire and turned to the group, arms up. “See? Let’s go.”

Jake grinned and nudged my shoulder with his fist. “When’d you grow a pair?”

My cheeks flushed and I hoped it was hidden by the cold. “Shut the hell up, man.”

He snickered and attached himself to Michelle before leading the pack again. I fell into step next to Jess and rubbed my arm. Despite the bravado, my hands were trembling. I didn’t want to think about what would have happened if. . . .

The unsettling feeling weighed on top of the entire group. No one spoke once we were in that broken trail of trees. We weren’t sure how far the crash site stretched, but there was no end in sight. This time we didn’t bother spreading out, instead keeping to a tight ball. Every whistle of wind through the leaves made us jump, ever snap of a twig pushed my senses into overdrive.

Michelle, however, was making good use of her camera.

I kept seeing shadows move, but when I shined my light, there was never anything there.

“Shhh, guys. . .up ahead. Get down,” Jake’s harsh voice whispered. He was already crouched, so like a single entity, the rest of us ducked down and shut off our lights.

We shuffled forward together until we were practically on our bellies, crawling. There was a slight incline, and at the top was the dark shape of a vehicle. Jake motioned for us to stay put, pried his arm from Michelle’s grip, then army-crawled through the broken twigs. At the top of the hill, he crouched behind the car and disappeared around it.

No one dared move. We waited what seemed like ages until he returned, his flashlight on. "There's no one here," he called, his voice shaking.

 Sharing glances, we stood and joined Jake on top of the hill, flashlights coming to life. I didn’t bother with mine. The hill sloped downward, and all the trucks from earlier that morning were there.

Everything was quiet. There was no wind, no sounds of wildlife. No soldiers. I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and held tight to Jess, who was trembling alongside me. Most of us stayed by the first car, but others wandered down. Though Jake left to explore, Michelle remained and lit the hillside with her camera.

I pulled away from Jess and put my hands on her shoulders. "Stay here, I want to look, too."

She nodded in jerky succession and I left her side to scale the incline. I kicked something after a few steps and leaned down to see what it was. My fingers brushed against the hard plastic of a rifle. I followed its contours until slime met met skin. I recoiled and jumped to my feet, skittering away from the gun until I tripped over a flashlight.

It, too, was covered in sludge.

"Um, guys," a boy I didn't recognize called, "there's blood over here."

Before I could come to investigate, someone started yelling from atop the hill. “Lin! Lin this isn’t funny! Lin!”

Everyone turned to the voice in the back. Kylee, also from my math class, had her hands to her mouth and was turning this way and that. She turned toward our questioning gazes, eyes wide. “I don’t know where Lin went! She was _right here_ a second ago! She—she said she was going to look at something over there and—Lin! Lin where are you!” She was close to tears and gasping.

Muttering and concerned voices wound through the air. Michelle and I ran to her side to comfort her and Jess trailed after us, hovering a foot away. It wasn’t long before she had her fingers in my jacket again. “Are you absolutely sure?”

Kylee sniffed and gestured behind us. “Yes! She was right there. I turned away to look inside this truck, and—for like _two minutes_. Where did she go? Where did she go?”

Several other people joined in shouting for Lin, meandering about the abandoned caravan. Every nerve in my body was on a hair trigger, the slightest sensation turning my skin to gooseflesh. We called for a minute or two, but I couldn’t concentrate.

Victor had seen _blood._

After a couple minutes, something answered.

The first time I thought it was an echo, so I ignored the awful feeling of dread it elicited. The second time, though, was louder. Closer. The sound was not an echo and a human’s voice. It was a wail, dangerous and malicious. We all came to a halt and stared into the woods.

“Please tell me you all heard that,” Michelle said.

Agreement worked its way across us.

“What was it?”

“It didn’t sound like a bear or an elk.”

“Maybe it was a coyote,” Jess suggested, worrying her hands. She and I were arm in arm. “They make really weird noises.”

Once more the sound trilled through the leaves and several of us jumped. Without a word we started moving again, giving up the search for Lin. Kylee was in tears, sniffling and whimpering. All us girls huddled together, the boys around us. Next to me, Kylee muttered nonsense.

“A coyote ate her. I didn’t hear her scream. I shouldn’t have let her. Can’t believe it.”

I tugged on her jacket sleeve. “It’s okay. She didn’t get eaten. We’ll find her. Did you try calling her cell phone?”

She hiccupped and shook her head before pulling her phone from her pocket. We continued walking as she dialed the number, then put her phone to her ear. “It’s ringing. I don’t have very good signal out here so the call might drop—but it’s ringing.”

We waited, but it wasn’t long before she groaned and put the phone away. “She won’t answer.”

Palpable tension permeated the air. Fear wafted sticky and hot from us. Every now and again someone would call for Lin, but she didn’t answer. The screeches had stopped, as well, and we were almost ready to relax. Tyler wandered a few feet away to peer into the trees for Lin.

The tree above him ruffled and he turned his light toward it. “Lin?” he wondered.

His body jerked with a wet sound as a long, bladed _thing_ pierced his shoulder. He had enough time to croak in pain before he was heaved into the tree like a paper doll. The branches creaked as something moved, leaping to the next tree, before all was still again.

Shocked silence blanketed the immediate area.

Something hissed next to us, shattering the moment. One of the boys called out a command, quashed by the screams and shouts that exploded from our group. As one, we turned tail and fled back down the mountain.  


	4. See the Dogs

“Keep _up_!”

“I’m trying!”

I lost track of everyone but Jess, my hand super-glued to hers. She was slower and less athletic than me, but I spurred her on at my pace anyway. It was cruel, maybe, but I was going to keep her alive this way.

“Michelle?” I shouted into the darkness, casting fleeting glances around. We had all sprinted in the same direction—away—but at varying intervals and distances.

Her response was an unintelligible squawk from ahead, but at least she answered.

Unearthly screeches followed behind us. Whatever was out there, it was the only noise they made. There was no pounding footsteps as they chased, no scrape of claws on bark as they climbed. They blended with the shadows as created from them.

The world dimmed, narrowing until all I saw was the path ahead of me. All I heard was the beat of my pulse in my ears. Jess’ hand was warm in mine; my speed suffered from her lag and she huffed and puffed behind me, breaths ragged.                

I hoped against all odds she would be able to keep up with the help of adrenaline.

 _Let go,_ a voice needled from the back of my mind.

 _No. No_. She would never make it. We were falling behind, but there were others still at our backs. If I held on, we could both make it. I was at point, I could drag her with me. . . .

A scream stabbed through the air behind us, then silenced with an abrupt end. Jess and I shrieked, so I urged her onward with encouraging shouts. Too close. We were too close to the end of the pack. If we didn’t speed up, we would be in a position for them to pick us off.

_Let go._

“What are they?”

“Just run!”

“Faster!”

Another scream from one of my friends, so close it made my ears ring. However, this one wasn’t cut off like the last. It continued well into the woods; it ricocheted in my skull.

“James!”

“Don’t look back!”

 _Let go_.

My grip slackened by a margin when the voice gained strength. Jess’ fingers tightened in reflex and I redoubled my efforts to keep us ahead. I didn’t have to let go, there was still a chance. I could do this, I _had_ to do this. I could save us both.

The path ahead was littered with fallen trees from the crash, making running perilous. Navigating through the trunks and over fallen branches was difficult while towing Jess.

But I had to.

We would _both_ live.

Michelle was with Jake—I knew he’d keep her safe. Everyone else was on their own, but I could take care of Jess.

I chanced a glance behind me. Jess’ eyes were wide, her face flushed.

My gaze flickered from the path ahead to the forest around me. My situational awareness would see me through the obstacles, I was sure. Years of sports and video games would guide my path through the woods and see me to the end. I saw trees in my peripheral, rocks laid out in my path. Like enemy players or cones during practice. It was child’s play, and it would lead me to the goal.

To safety.

Around us the shadows moved and writhed. They hissed and pounced on those unfortunate enough to stray from the herd or fall behind. Faster. We had to move faster and catch up with our friends—they were ahead of us.

We were the last.

_Let go._

Somehow we cleared the crash zone, skirted the fence, and moved into untouched forest. Our speed picked up as the ground beneath us sloped further downward. My footing was less sure, but I kept my balance and prayed that Jess would be able to keep hers. If she couldn't, it would mean both of our lives. . . .

It wasn’t long before someone else tripped and tumbled down the hill. My muscles tensed for a fraction of a second as my body warred with my brain.

_Help. Run. Help. Run. Help._

_Run._

I skirted our fallen friend, their identity not registering in my mind. It would be better if I didn’t know who I was leaving behind. Who’s life I was valuing as less than mine.

Jess became dead weight against my pulling. I jerked to a stop and found her trying to double back to help the person to their feet— _Michelle_. She had been the one to lose her footing. She was the one I had been willing to leave behind.

The screeches were once more upon us. The wraiths were in the trees, crawling shadows with glinting, chrome fangs.

“Michelle!” Jake shouldered past me.

_Let go. Run. Don’t stop._

“I cracked my knee on something—”

“Can you walk? We _have_ to _run_ ,” Jess whined, pulling me toward Michelle. Toward danger.

“Babe get up! Come _on_!”

“Nichole, help!”

  _Let go_.

Black death descended from the trees.

Time slowed to a crawl. My vision tunneled and my breathing echoed in my ears. I tore my gaze from approaching doom and focused on Jess’ pleading look, then to Jake picking up Michelle. Teeth and claws threatened to rend and flay.

A nails-on-chalkboard squeal.

 _Run_.

Heat pulsed behind my eyes and my breath hitched. I ripped my hand free of Jess’ and fled down the hill to catch up with the rest. I had lost so much ground.

“Nichole!”

“Nichole wait!”

Their appeals morphed into screams that curdled my blood and tore out my still-beating heart. Soon they melted with the cries of the monsters. I wiped tears from my eyes before they could compromise my vision. Guilt twisted a knife in my gut and almost brought me to my knees, but adrenaline pushed me forward.

It crooned pretty words—that I had done well. That this was right.

That I had only one directive.

_Survive._

*:･ﾟ✧ 

After what seemed like  hundreds of miles of sprinting, we saw the lights. Flashes of blue and red against the jet-black sky, the blotchy treeline silhouetted. The police were still so far away, so many more miles of running. . . .

We would never make it.

The beasts had stopped their raucous screeching. Part of me knew it was because they were busy feasting on my friends. I could see them in my head, torn apart by the things and gutted like fish with talons so sharp and teeth too pointed.                

_My fault._

“Is that the police?”

“Thank god!”

I settled into the center of the remaining group, keeping pace without overtaking. If I was nestled in the center of the group, I'd be fine. The police were a tempting hope to cling to--any punishment they gave us would be pittance compared to dying by demons.

Monsters? Aliens? They had to be aliens. I had never seen anything like them.

A spaceship had crashed. I had no doubts about it anymore.              

We sprinted toward the lights, using them as beacons to sanctuary. That is, until they disappeared behind the crest of another hill. I was gasping for breath, legs like jello, and I knew I wouldn't be able to go on much longer. Others in the group had all started screaming, hoping the cops would hear.

Hoping they'd come and save us.

No matter how tired we were, though, we didn't dare stop. Not when the creatures could be right behind us. There weren't many of us left: four if I looked hard enough to count.

I'd lost them. I’d lost Jess.

_My fault._

Five minutes after we lost sight of the police car's sirens, we saw pinpricks of lights in the trees. They flickered in and out of view, heading west to our south. Our screams intensified and the lights swung in our direction.

At last.

“Hey! You kids can’t be here!” one of the officers yelled. I lifted my hand against the glare, but he swept the light over the others.

“Help! You have to help us!”

As soon as we were close, we flung ourselves at the two officers. One held me by the bicep while I shuddered and sucked in air, another one of my classmates held in his other hand. Each breath I took drove icy needles into my over-taxed lungs. My muscles burned as if filled with napalm. I wanted nothing more than to collapse and make the officer hold me, but adrenaline wouldn't let me relax.

_They’re gone._

_Monsters are coming._

“Calm down, children! What happened? We thought we heard screaming.”

The strength seeped from my veins and a frantic sob slipped past my defenses. I choked and spluttered on half-formed words, everyone trying to explain at once.

“They took them—”

“They’re dead! They’re all dead—”

“There were these _things_ —”

“Calm down! One at a time!”

A single noise saturated the cold and silenced us all. It wafted over on the breeze and promised a painful death.

The officer released me and my classmate, then pulled his gun from its holster. He motioned for us to move back where his partner corralled us behind him, his own weapon drawn. My trembling body itched to move, to run _away_.

But I was safe with the police. I had to be. I’d come too far not to be.

_They’re gone._

_My fault._

Alone, the officer inched forward, sweeping his light through the brush. The beasts made no more sounds, but the hairs on the back of my neck was on edge. They were out there in the darkness, lurking and waiting.

“Where is the Army?” he called over his shoulder in a hushed voice.

“They weren’t here when we came in,” the boy next to me offered.

Another added, “We found their base. They were all missing and there was _blood_."

He stalked forward step after step. None of us made any effort to follow him. I took careful steps backwards, every muscle tense and ready to spring.

“What was it you guys said you saw out here?”

As if in answer, something disturbed the branches of a nearby pine tree. The four of us cried out an anguished warning as he approached the tree, but were too late. A spine-covered tail struck from above, penetrating the officer's chest. He sputtered and gagged, body stiff.

His partner opened fire into the tree, and we remained frozen in place behind him.

He would protect us. He had to protect us.

“Kids, get out of here!” he commanded, pushing us back. “Hurry! Don’t look back and don’t stop, no matter what!”

 _No._ We were supposed to be _safe_ with him.

At his behest, we turned tail and fled back into the woods. How far could we go? Their cruisers were a couple miles away, still. Gunshots popped behind us, punctuated by screeches. We had to try.

 _Why?_ I thought as I struggled to keep up the race. _Why did we think this was a good idea?_

My friends were all gone, and we were running from an unidentified species. We would all die out here, tired and scared and ripped to pieces.

We should have turned back hours ago.

Ear-splitting screeches from all directions scattered my group. The creatures split us up, and I found myself alone in the dark. When I tried to spot someone, all I saw was a nightmare black creature running parallel to me. I choked back a sob: quadrupeds. I couldn’t hope to out-run something that was on all fours.

I had to try. _I had to try_.

The creature sounded off at my left and my head jerked in that direction. It was for a mere heartbeat, but it was long enough. My muscles were hot rubber, lungs shriveled. I lost my footing on the slope and lurched forward with an undignified wail. The ground reached drove what precious air I had from my lungs, leaving me a coughing and wheezing mess.    

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. How many times had I chastised the bimbos in horror movies for doing the exact same thing?

A victory screech rattled my bones and I struggled to stand. I only managed to rise in a half-crouch before something heavy landed not far behind me and I twisted around. There were no more scream, no more gunfire.

It was me and the demon, alone.

Glistening fangs and a sleek black hide rose to fill my vision. The thing was the size of a small bear, emaciated form made of a bio-mechanical exoskeleton. Elongated claws scored divots into the dirt, its back legs exaggerated digitigrade stilts. A long, segmented tail stretched several feet behind it, tipped with a sharp blade.

And those _teeth_.

They were at the forefront of my mind; silver, glistening, _deadly_. It was an unholy spawn of serpent and insect, demon and shadows.

Not anything like the aliens from movies. It wasn’t a small gray man with big eyes. It wasn’t a green man with big, pulsating brains. I wasn’t even sure if I believed that these aliens could fly a ship. They were too bestial, too feral; there was no way it was smart or dexterous enough to pilot anything.

Attack dogs, maybe?

It’s oblong head stretched back between protrusions from its spine, swaying as it regarded me. I didn’t see any eyes, only a smooth carapace. Lips drew back over those fangs, twitching and slavering with viscous saliva. Behind it, its skeletal tail lashed like an angry cat.

Then, with a high-pitched whine, it lunged.

There was no air left in my lungs for me to scream. It landed atop me  and I wheezed once, then tried to curl inward to protect my core. Stars danced across my vision and I rasped out a pitiful croak of pain. Its claws dug into my body, and then it yanked me away.

Sticks and stones snagged at my clothes and scratched my face. My green coat tore open in several places, caught up on any manner of forest litter. All the while I grabbed at whatever I could, trying to hold onto anything and keep it from dragging me. A sob tore free of my sandpaper throat and tears squeezed from my eyes.

Somehow I found my stolen breath and screamed at the top of my lungs. I shouted and wailed for someone to please _help_.

My face stung from its cuts, my fingers ached and bled from attempting to dig into the ground. But I didn't want to give up. I couldn’t give up. I didn’t know what this hellish thing had in store for me but I didn’t want to find out.

I just wanted to go back _home_.

Crawl under my bed, hope this was a dream—

— _Wake up. Wake up wake up_ wake up.

This was my penance, I realized, for leaving my friends. For running when I should have helped, for trying to save myself instead of them.

The thing was stronger than I ever would have given it credit for. Even when I managed to get my hands on a root and stall my kidnapping, it wrenched me free. It dragged me along behind it, squealing and hissing. Its tail swished overhead and I watched it, afraid it might spear me at any moment.             

Something struck me in the side of my head. White-hot pain flashed through my nerves, and then I knew nothing.

*:･ﾟ✧

An acrid stench roused me from my stupor. Moldy mildew and hot, wet air. Soon after, muffled sounds reached my ears; a steady drip, rustling, and ambient static. My head throbbed with a dull pain behind my eyes. I couldn’t remember why—had I overslept?

For a blissful moment I thought everything had been a horrendous dream. I thought maybe I was at home. And my pillow case needed a desperate cleaning.

I was warm enough. But I was also _upright_ instead of horizontal on my bed.

After some attempts, I peeled open swollen eyes and peered into the darkness. Someone was moaning next to me and I was damp.

Not a dream.

That was just the maybe-concussion talking.            

My sight faded in and out and when I tried to move, tried to lift my arms and rub my head, I could not. My damp hair clung to my face, and for one terrifying minute I thought it was my own blood covering me. Every part of me felt sticky.

Nothing else hurt, though. My body was sore, yes, but that wasn't the same as an injury. Not like my throbbing head or stinging cuts. If it was blood, it would be a lot of blood. Too much blood, and I wouldn't be awake, let alone alive. It felt instead like the slime from the log and the convoy.

After wiggling around and taking in what surroundings I could see, I came to a conclusion. I was encased in some sort of cocoon.

Whatever had me pinned to the wall held fast no matter how I struggled. I gave up soon after my first attempt, accepting that I was still weak and tired from running. When my eyes had adjusted to the dim red light of the room, I spotted two other people next to me. They were plastered to the wall in similar manners. Across from me there were even more.

None of them were moving. I couldn’t see them well enough to recognize them. My mind cleared little by little and my vision focused enough to pick out details. One at my right was wearing military fatigues, and I assumed he was with the squad that disappeared.

It was the same with the man on my left. I thought perhaps the rest of those present were part of the Guard, but I had to squint and strain to see across from me.

One was missing his entire chest cavity.

I sucked in deep, noisy breaths and fought to keep calm. The sight of his blood and the entrails dangling from the gaping hole had me dry heaving. Tears poured down my cheeks and I looked around for something, anything, that would help me.

There was nothing.

Absolutely fucking nothing.

Instead, I started screaming for help. The man next to me stirred at the noise and I halted to look at him with wide eyes. Relief manifested in a hysterical laugh. There was one person who was _alive._  

“Hey! Hey you’re alive! Hey!” I called to him in desperation, leaning as far as I could toward him. I shook my damp hair out of my eyes, it only slapped against my cheek. Without hands, I couldn't move the strands far.

He inhaled a deep breath and lifted his heavy head. It took him a second, but at last his eyes fell on me. For a moment I thought that maybe he couldn’t see me in the dark, but his eyes focused after a second. He stared at me for the longest time, as if unable to comprehend what he was seeing. After some time, his face contorted in dismay.

“Hey!” I whispered at him again, eyes wide with hope. “You okay?”

“No—no you weren’t supposed to come. I told you to stay out of the woods! Who—who else?” he demanded. He sounded as if his throat was made of sandpaper.

It was then I realized that this was the same man from the school assembly. I couldn’t recall his name; it stuck at the tip of my tongue. For a second I hesitated, terrified of a lecture, but I brushed the though aside.

This was so much bigger than a lecture.

“All my friends, and their friends. I don’t know—there was a dozen or more of us,” I finally admitted. “It wasn’t supposed to be, it was just supposed to be a small group, but. . .but everyone kept inviting more people. . .and then we were attacked! It wasn’t supposed to—what do we do? What do we do!” My voice cracked into a shrill wail and I fought against my restraints again. It was a thick, solid layer of resin that kept me glued to the wall.

“Calm down,” he urged, head bobbing with the effort. He heaved a cough.

I took in a few more breaths and swallowed my tears. It lasted another few precious moments before I managed to calm down, but then I nodded and kept my eyes on him. “Okay. Okay.”

“You just have to be calm and you can get out. What’s your name?” he asked. His voice was subdued and he kept grunting and bending in at the waist as much as he could, as if he had a bad stomach ache. Concern knit my brow together.

“Nichole,” I replied, voice wavering. I eyed him and tried to figure out what was wrong.

“Alright Nichole. I’m Lieutenant Anderson. Do you remember me from your high school?”

That’s right: Anderson. I did remember, and I let him know with a few jerky nods.

He grimaced and wheezed. “I don’t—I don’t have much time. But you have to get out quick, okay?” He scrunched up his face in pain and grit his teeth.

“What do you mean?” I whimpered. Was it his stomach pains? “Are you okay?”

Anderson inclined his head toward the ground and I followed his gaze. Right in front of him was something like a dead spider the size of my chest. It had a long tail coiled around it and was belly-up, many-jointed legs curled in on itself. My eyes wandered north and widened at what I saw.

Eggs. Dozens and dozens of eggs. They were all clustered in the center of the room, swaddled in a lazy mist drifting along the ground.

“That thing—it. . .it stuck something inside me. I can feel it—trying to get out.”

The hyperventilating started again and I looked around the room. Now the darkness had revealed so many more people, all stuck to the wall.  Most of them seemed to be Soldiers, but I recognized one of the cops from the hill. Only a few had holes in them, others just seemed unconscious.

Some had a spider-thing stuck to their face. They had tails wrapped around their throats and finger-like legs embracing their heads.

 _Hugging_ their _faces_.         

Then his words sank in and I turned my head toward him molasses-slow. Tears left dirty streaks on my cheeks.

“ _It stuck something inside me_.”

The gaping holes in those people’s chests—that was what it was? The spiders—they put something _inside_ them? And then they—oh no. Oh god.

 _Me_. I was. . . _next_.

“Nichole you have to stay with me,” Anderson demanded when I started to whimper and sob. His breathing was more labored and his coughing fits more frequent.

I nodded and forced myself to calm down, but it was a losing battle. The tears trailed down my face uninhibited, and I ground my teeth together. Sobs formed hot rocks in my stomach. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pursed my lips, breathing in and out through my nose instead. I shook my head and tried to clear the tears from my eyes so I could see.

“More will come out of those eggs and when they do, you _cannot_ be here. Do you understand?” Anderson was trying his best to enunciate through grunts of pain.

There wasn’t much room for interpretation. I had no choice _but_ to understand.

“Just thrashing around isn’t going to get you out of this stuff, okay?” I didn’t even mind that he was speaking to me like I was five. Somehow it was soothing.

“I know, I know, okay. I can do it.” Can’t panic. Can’t lose control. Can’t give in to despair.

His head bobbed and he took in a deep, pained breath. “You gotta do it smart. Take deep breaths, lean against it. The only way you'll get out is if you work at the same spot and wear it down.” He managed a small smile and demonstrated for me on a section he'd been working at before. . . .

 _Before he was face-hugged_ _by the parasite._

I thought for a moment, then picked a spot on my right. I pushed against it over and over, leaning and bumping into it as hard as I could.

When it started to create some slack, I choked back a laugh. "It's working!"

“Good—just keep doing that. When it’s loose enough to get your arm free, you'll be able to pull or push the stuff away and have more freedom. You have to work fast, but do not panic, okay?” he advised. His voice was heavy and his body bucked.

“Okay, okay. I think I can do it. I’ll do it,” I amended, shoving against the spot I'd picked with more vigor. It slackened further and I could almost feel fresh air on my hand. “What about you?”

“Forget about me. Forget about them all unless you can without a doubt save them, okay?”

“What?” I stared at him in horror. Was he asking me to leave my friends again? I had done that once already and it had landed me in the spot I was in. Sure, he didn’t know what I’d done, that the guilt still wheedled at my insides, but he couldn’t ask me to ditch them.

Not again.

But he was. He was sitting there, telling me to leave them.

First the voice inside my head, and now this guy.

“ _Do_ not _stop for anyone_. Their best bet at survival is _you_ getting out and finding someone to come help.” Anderson’s body heaved and he choked on air.

“Lieutenant?” I whimpered in a small voice, stopping my movements.

He said nothing, and his body began to convulse. My eyes widened and a fresh batch of tears spilled past my eyelids. I was unable to look away as the area around his chest bulged. His bones cracked and splintered like ice, his flesh tore like fabric, and then he let out a haunting scream.

With one final, sickening snap, the cocoon burst and his blood misted the air. I watched on, horrified, as a slick head slipped out from the hole. It hissed and peered around with a sightless, gray head. I gawked as the little baby alien thing squeaked and climbed out of Anderson’ chest cavity. It tumbled to the floor, peered around again, and slithered off.

I made no sound for a few seconds, sitting in abject terror. My chest heaved with mounting intensity until I was wheezing in fits.

Though I gulped air, my lungs refused to absorb it. All sounds warped and my vision blurred as if I'd was in a vat of water. Nausea turned my stomach and I retched, losing the dinner I’d eaten hours ago. No part of my brain could process, wanted to process, the scene I had witnessed.

My mind threatened to pull me back into the darkness. It didn't want to deal with what it was seeing. But I knew that would mean death. Even though my heart was about to beat itself out of my chest, I couldn't go under. I closed my eyes tight and fought to control my breathing. I struggled to dispel the dizziness and nausea.

It took several minutes of crying and groaning through clenched teeth, but I did it. My hearing returned and my eyes focused. The fuzzy feeling went away, and the heat behind my eyes cooled.

I had to stay conscious. I had to stay lucid.

_Have to get out._


	5. Wicked Design

Through the panic, I remembered Anderson's advice. Through the cotton filling my skull, I remembered what to do. I continued my work with vigor, loosening the crust around my right arm. The entire time I repeated a quiet, desperate mantra in my head.

_Must not lose hope. Must not panic._

_Have to get out._

My hand wriggled free, then my forearm, then the rest. I flexed my fingers and bent my elbow to make it sure worked, then starting prying. The resin cut into my palm, but didn't break the skin. It took all the strength I could muster, but I was able to tease chunks from the cocoon and free my shoulder. My chest soon followed.

Feet in front of me, an egg squelched and hissed. I ignored it in favor of leaning my weight forward, straining against what remained of my prison. Teeth gnashing and muscles shaking, I broke free and tumbled to the ground. Its embrace was hard, but the pain was negligible.

I was free.

Breaths heaved from my chest in loud whimpers. Ashen legs mounted atop the hatching egg and tiny mewls heralded the arrival of the parasite. I whirled around to face the wall again, sending pieces of crust scattering into the mist at my feet. It swirled as if alive.

Anderson was there, head cocked at an unnatural angle and jaw slack. Blood and pieces of viscera tracked red down his cocoon. My shoulders quaked, but I lunged for the plastic at his hip.

Gravity shifted his body and a globule of lung matter dropped to the ground. I squeaked and recoiled from his body. My stomach churned and I almost retched again, but I swallowed the bile that rose. His gun was right there, tucked at his hip.

_Have to get out._

This time, when the creature wailed, it drew my attention. I whirled around in time to see it soaring toward me, legs splayed out and tail behind it like a ribbon. Years of honed goal keeper reflexes brought my hands up in time to protect my face. The parasite hit my arms and its long tail wrapped around my bicep—it had aimed at my throat.

Despite its demure and emaciated figure (though it _was_ bigger than my face), it was strong. Its tail tensed and flexed around my arm, pushing against me and trying to pull itself closer to my face.

I struggled against it and stumbled backwards until I hit the wall. As it thrashed, the clawed tips of its digits tore shreds from my coat's sleeves. The bottom of it was a fleshy and inflamed, puckered like something from a hentai. After another bout of struggling, the center shifted to reveal a grotesque and phallic appendage.

Disgust set my teeth on edge and brought an uncomfortable heat to my core. I slid down the wall until I was on my ass, head turned away. With it pressed against my forearms, I couldn't keep the _alien mouth-cock_ far enough away.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins like hot molasses. Eyes wide as saucers, I flipped over and shifted so I could wedge the thing against the ground. When my hand pressed into the disgusting squishy core, my teeth gnashed. The thing bucked and almost freed itself from underneath me, but I slammed my knee into it to keep it down.

A tremor of disgust wriggled down my spine at the sickening squashing sound. It writhed and squealed, its legs lashing, but I had it pinned against the ground with my weight.

It let loose a single squeak when I pushed harder, and its grip loosened. Before it could recover, I pried its tail free of my arm and swung my arm with all the force I could muster. An angry scream ripped from my throat as I bashed the parasite against the wall, splattering it like a bug. It took two tries for a lethal rupture of green-yellow blood, then I left it suctioned there.

I watched it to make sure it was dead, shoulders and chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. Broken, insides now outside, it slid down the wall with slow progress.

Otherwise, it made no sounds. It didn't move. I'd won.

The victory was short lived. Through the silence was the hiss of released air, the scuffle of skittering legs. I spun around, eyes flitting to and fro until they fell on the hatching egg.

Next to it, another unborn parasite was beginning to stir inside its womb.

There were more. So many more.

_Have to get out._

Fear wrapped its icy fingers around my chest. I turned to Anderson’s body and did my best to censor his gaping ribcage from my mind. I zeroed in on his pistol instead and lunged. A section of his cocoon blocked it in no matter how hard I pulled or shook. Grunting, I tugged at the resin with one hand and tried to wiggle the gun free with the other.

Though it wasted precious seconds, I was able to pull out the firearm. The sudden lack of resistance had me reeling back, but I caught myself before I fell.

Thanks to the Colorado Youth Outdoors club, I knew the gist behind the weapon. My mom and I were two-year members, but all they'd taught me was gun safety for hunting. The only gun I'd ever fired before was a rifle. At skeet. For one day.

But this was my only shot. I had to hope it wasn’t empty.

The firearm was foreign in my trembling hands. I checked the safety and pulled back the slide like they did in the movies—and out popped a bullet. “God dammit,” I choked out, leaping back in surprise. At least I knew the gun was loaded, now. I would have to make it work with one less shot.

Behind me, something squealed. The gun was up and sighted as I whirled to face it.

It was airborne already.

My breath hitched in my throat and I squeezed the trigger, firing two rounds. The recoil jerked my hands and the sound surprised me, causing the first shot to miss. Thankfully, the second shot hit home and the parasite lurched in the air, falling flat on its back. When it continued to thrash, I popped it one more time.

That did it. It fell still and its legs curled inward as the rattle of its last breath whispered.           

I was still for several seconds, but I wasn’t out of the fire yet. There were others rustling around, and another parasite had fixed itself atop its egg. Now I was accustomed to my firearm—sort of—and I targeted the next one.

_Click._

“ _No_!” I bellowed, shaking the gun. I pulled back the slide and tried again.

_Click._

_Click click click._

Three shots. One bullet ejected on accident.

Rage replaced the fear. Red tinted my vision and I let out a strangled battle cry before charging the parasite. It was still in that foggy state of post-birth and I was able to take it by surprise. I was screaming the entire time as I punted the gross creature across the room. It slapped against the ground and I was on top of it in an instant, beating it with the butt of the gun.

Soon it was an unrecognizable mess of grotesque limbs and crumpled flesh.

My hands and face stung, the gun’s grip a melted mess of plastic. Shaking, I dropped the weapon and scrambled back. I rubbed my face on my jacket sleeves and my hands on my pants, relieving some of the stinging.

_Still more. More more more._

They were all going to hatch, one after the other.

Hot stones filled my torso. I ran to each egg and stopped the life from them until they turned into a heap of mush.

Though my shoes smoked, I kept at it.

Egg after egg crumpled under my boots until there were only a few left. A searing pain at the bottoms of my feet halted my progress. Gasping, I threw myself to my ass and pulled my boots off with trembling hands.

The soles had melted through to my socks. Holes littered my pant legs, but the long underwear beneath were untouched. I tossed the boots aside with confused revulsion, then peeled my tattered socks off. My feet were red and blistered, but otherwise okay.

I froze and listened.

What was left of the eggs were motionless and dormant. No sounds, just that incessant drip. I waited what seemed to be forever, sitting, but there was nothing.

For now.

All the thrashing and moving had dispelled the mist, but the muggy humidity remained. Avoiding the puddles of acid, I padded to the rest of the eggs. The floor beneath my feet was cool and soothing on the burns I’d sustained. I dropped to my knees by each egg and, in turn, pushed them over. My feet scrabbled against the hard floor, but I was able to shove the eggs until they were up against a wall.

From there, I heaved until they crumbled or burst.

Then I was up, searching the room for others. For signs of danger.

White noise. The occasional rustle of the unconscious people on the wall. No immediate danger. No more eggs.

Nothing.

Relief washed over me and I slumped to the floor. Panting, I lifted my hand to wipe slime from my face, stopping short to stare. Blood tinged my fingers with red and the trembling started anew.

Was it Anderson's?

Was it my own?

Something fumbled to the floor across the room and I shrieked before I could stop myself, hands over my head. A moment passed and I uncurled from my ball and limped around the edge of the room toward a staggering form. It was one of the face-hugging aliens, stumbling as if drunk.

My heart had yet to find rest. It continued to race, and I knew it was only a matter of time until it gave out completely.

I had nothing to kill it with. My feet were bare, so I didn't want to kick it, either. It soon flopped over and died, though, its legs curling in on its center. The person in front of me started coughing and I threw myself backwards again.

Whoever they were, they were unconscious, so I stood and nudged the dead parasite. The dead facehugger. It must have completed whatever it was doing and died.

Its only purpose was to. . . _impregnate_ a host.

Slime dripped down my forehead and I went to swipe it off. Again I saw the blood on my fingers, and my mind emptied. From the vacancy came Anderson's agonized scream, then the sound of his ribs splintering in half.

The squeal of the creature bursting from the cavity.

When I came back to myself, I was hiccuping and whimpering. Tears left dirty streaks down my face and I wrapped my arms around myself, as if to keep from falling apart. I spent the next several minutes doubled over, sniveling and moaning through gritted teeth.

_Have to get out._

I sucked in a breath and ceased my rocking. There were things I had to do, placed I need to be. A couple more hiccups racked me, and I wiped my face, slicking slime through my hair. From my pants' pocket I pulled a hair tie, then used it to pull the sticky locks off my neck into a ponytail.

My gaze never lingered in one place long. I searched for danger whenever I could, trying to ignore the dead bodies. The angle at which their heads hung, the glazed look in their eyes.

How all the color had had drained from their faces.

More sobs choked my throat. I pushed my hand against either side of my head. If I could squeeze the sights out of my mind, I could move on. I needed to leave, I couldn't be in the room anymore. I struggled to stand, the resin cool against my feet. It seemed every inch of the room was covered in the strange material. 

Shoes. I needed shoes.

Having a task focused my mind. It allowed me to ignore everything that wasn't part of my mission: find shoes. I kept my eyes low and searched for a pair of feet that might be close to my size.

The dim light was enough for me to find my bearings, but not much else. I tip-toed around the edge of the room, testing my steps before committing. The last thing I wanted to do was step in more of that acid and melt my feet off.

Acid. For blood. What the fuck kind of creatures were these?

It took a few painstaking minutes of checking boots before I found a pair close enough to my size and slipped them on.

A little big, but they would do. I could even ignore how strange they felt without socks.

Next, I needed to find a way out of the room. There had to have been a door somewhere, but the walls melded together. The crusted gum fused shapes together and created an optical illusion. I paced the room with my hand against the wall, trying to find an opening.

Screeches in the distance paralyzed me.

Shit—the _gunshots_. My screaming and shouting. . . . The big ones were coming to investigate the noise. I cursed my lack of foresight and worked double time until I found an opening to a corridor, and I slipped out. The resin stopped at the room, as if unfinished, and I found a small cubby to wedge myself in. It seemed to be a sort of vent and hot steam poured from it.

But, I ignored the initial discomfort and shimmied in as far as I could, crouching low and curling into a ball. I hid my face in my knees, every muscle tense and quivering. Sweat beaded my forehead.

Hissing shadows shot past several heartbeats later. Though I twitched at their initial appearance, I held rigid as a statue and held my breath. Nothing was going to make me unravel from my ball; I couldn’t mess this up, not after my victory.

They rummaged around the room, angry screeches battering my senses. I was certain that if they'd found me in that room with all the broken eggs and dead facehuggers, they would have killed me.

There wouldn't have been a third chance. Just death.

The creatures made an awful racket as they sprinted from the room in search for the murderer. For me. Their noises disappeared into the bowels of the ship and I waited.

And waited.

*:･ﾟ✧          

It seemed like forever that I huddled in that vent, biding my time. My legs were starting to cramp and there was an incessant itch irritating my left shoulder blade.

But I didn’t dare move.

At first I’d counted to ten, but chickened out. Then I’d counted to thirty and yet again couldn’t bring myself to leave. Not a single thing had made a noise since the creatures passed, but I was afraid. They could come back any second, and if they caught me with my pants down. . . .

After five minutes of absolute silence, I finally crawled out from my hiding spot. I glanced about, making sure the coast was clear, then wiggled out and slowly stood.

Well, somehow I’d avoided dying, now I had to figure out how to escape the ship.

I picked a direction and headed down the hall way, only to find myself back in the room. It was empty, except for the bodies on the wall and the tattered eggs. I hadn’t meant to, but now that I was there I figured I’d make the best of it. Moving slower than was necessary in favor of silence, I slipped into the chamber. There were plenty of military personnel, so maybe I could find a weapon.

More guns popped into my mind, but I brushed the thought aside: they'd almost caught me once. I didn't want to broadcast my location like that again. Nor did I want to deal with the utter despair I'd felt when the gun ran out of ammo.

Would a gun even work against the things? The little creatures, maybe, but the big bugs looks tough. Could a bullet puncture their chitin? I knew there had to be some sort of weapon that could do it, but maybe not a pistol. How would I know until I tried, though? It seemed like it would be a waste no matter how I tried to spin it, though.

If the guns works, great, but I didn't have the training to aim right. How many bullets would each gun have? Not enough to kill all the monsters, of that I was sure. Then I’d be right back at square one. Or dead, more like it.

Something else, then. But what?

When faced with the task of looting corpses, though, I faltered. The cocoons covered most of their bodies, and what it didn't hide was a gaping, bloody mess. Every cell, every nerve ending, every fiber of my existence told me not touch anything. To turn and flee. 

And so I stood there, rubbing my hands against my jeans and fidgeting.

That was when I felt it: a lump in my back pocket. I patted the spot once more, then pulled my phone free, hope swelling my chest. There was large fissure that cobwebbed across the top corner, but that was the extent of the damage. 

"Everything's coming up Milhouse," I muttered, ticking my head to the side. A seed of hope planted itself inside me and I fumbled to wake up the phone. I was all too eager to forget the bodies.

“Come on, come on,” I muttered, waiting for the black screen to come to life. It brightened after a slight delay. Excitement hindered my movement, but I was able to unlock the phone after the second try. I tapped on the phone app and brought up the keypad to type in 9-1-1. I didn’t know what I was going to tell them, but I’d come up with something. All I had to do was tell them to call someone.

Then they could send help. A search party, anything.

But when I dialed and put the phone to my ear, I heard nothing. No ring, no voice asking me what my emergency was.

A big fat nothing.

“No, no,” I muttered, staring at the phone. “Come on, just let me get through, just once. Just for a few seconds—I just need a few seconds!”

The second, third, and fourth tries bore similar results. I raised my hand as if to chuck my phone across the room, but thought better of it. Groaning, I crouched down and perched on the balls of my feet, hands to my head. No signal. I couldn’t make any calls.

Of course not.

“Why would my phone get a fucking signal in an alien spaceship?” I said sarcastically to myself, bumping my phone against my forehead. "That would just be too easy, wouldn't it? Has to be difficult!"

If I sat and thought about it, I'd realize there was plenty of things lying around to block the signal. Not only was I miles away from civilization, but I was in the belly of an alien spaceship. Who knew what kind of electronic devices were giving off weird signals. They could have even been jamming communications on purpose.

Anger demanded I throw the phone. A pressure formed behind my eyes and I sniffed back frustrated tears. No matter how hard I stared at my phone, I couldn't will the reception to life.

Ditching the phone wouldn't help, either. It wasn't hurting anything from my pocket, and it still had battery life. If I did nothing else with it, I could use the flashlight feature to find my way around. If I was lucky, I might be able to find a spot where I could pick up a signal.

There was still the problem of what I would say, but I didn't need to go into details. All they needed to know was to send a search party.

And the entire military.

One of the women on the wall twitched and groaned. I suppressed a scream and scrambled to my feet into a half-baked battle stance. She coughed and my head jerked in her direction. I watched with fascinated horror as her body bucked, and the sound of her rib cage cracked like thunder.

Another body across the room from me started to lurch—but this man woke up.

He woke up screaming.

Not again. I didn't want to watch anymore people die. I didn't want to deal with the things that burst out of their chests like rocks through paper.

It didn't matter that I ran. It didn't matter that I found the way out of that chamber. The sound of bones shattering and gore splattering the wall chased me into the hall before petering out. Even the man’s screams came to an abrupt end.

Ahead of me, a dark shape hissed.

I didn't make it ten paces before I was face to face with one of the adult monsters. It stood in the middle of the hall, top lip drawn back and twitching. Even in the gloom I could see the glint of its silver fangs.

My breath caught in my throat and I backed away at a snail's pace, hands up and eyes locked on the beast. It rose from its crouch to stand upright and followed me, keeping the distance between us. Its posture was raptor-like, bent over and long arms hanging. Its tail brushed the floor behind it.

It pushed me back into the now-silent room. I backed up until I stumbled over one of the shoes I’d tried on earlier. Without thinking, I snatched up the steel-toed boot and stood.

Not a weapon, but it was all I had.

There wasn't a chance it would kill the biomechanical beast before me, but I had to do something. If anything, it might delay my death by a few minutes.

Teeth bared, the alien crouched low again and swung its head this way and that. It had no eyes, of that I was certain. Yet, the irate hiss it emitted as it took in the room made me think it could see. Destroyed eggs, dead facehuggers. . .general carnage.

Carnage I had caused.

And it knew.

Jaws parted and hissing, the creature rose to its full size and turned its smooth head toward me. I took a step back and it took a step toward me, tail lashing over its head. I was hyper-aware of every movement, every twitch and ripple of muscle, waiting for it to charge. It leaned forward like a snake about to strike and its leg muscles bunched.

I tensed in response, clutching my pitiful excuse for a weapon.

Singing crystal. The crunch of hard exoskeleton. Splattering blood.

A hole had appeared in the creature's midsection and it stopped short, mouth agape. It was almost comical if not for the fact that I  couldn't see what had caused it. 

And I was certain these things didn't suffer from spontaneous wounds.

If I squinted, I could see rivulets of blood dripping down an invisible force from its chest. It created an outline of something sharp. But why couldn’t I see what it was?

Electricity charged the air and a new sound met my ears: a rattle. The creature jerked as the invisible blade wrenched upward, cleaving its chest in two. Behind it, the air shimmered and rippled like water, then it fell to the floor. My breath caught as something large appeared, standing erect like man.

Whatever it was, it was Arnold Schwarzenegger big. Maybe even bigger.

The thing looked like it was completely composed of muscle and sinew. Based on the shape of its body and the way it held itself, I had to wager it was male. Uniform, black dreads fell into place around its head, past its shoulders. A stern and impassive mask obscured its face.

Protruding from the gauntlet on its wrist was a dual set of curved blades. They showed no sign of corrosion from the creature's acid blood dripping from the tip.

They were _made_ to kill the serpents.

My heartbeat was thunder in my ears. Trembling started deep in my chest and radiated outward to my fingers and toes. Should I run? Stand my ground?

It—or he, as he appeared masculine—wore scarce armor over his thighs, shins, and wrists. He didn't seem like he _needed_ to wear even that much. Like he was Superman and his immaculate pectorals would deflect any attacks. A pair of knee-high boots protected his legs, and he wore an armored codpiece as well. Over his mottled torso was a mesh like fishnets, and I couldn't discern its purpose. 

That was what I assumed at first glance. When I took the time to study him further, I noted several wounds. Were it not for the radioactive-green blood, I would have missed them.

If the injuries bothered him at all, he didn't show it.

This alien had to be the owner of the ship, or at least a crew member: the species appeared more sapient than the ones that had stolen me. He wore armor, used weapons, and that technology he had. . .he had been invisible!

With the way he had killed the serpent, I knew my initial guess was wrong. But if they weren't attack dogs, then what were they?

An infestation was the only sensible conclusion.

Space pests.

After a brief second of staring at one another he took a calculated step toward me. I mirrored his movement backwards. His wrist blades retracted with a metallic hiss and I jumped three feet in the air with a sharp cry. Without thinking, I chucked the boot at his head.

As soon as it left my hands, I knew it would be the death of me.

With stunning dexterity, he snatched it out of the air without so much as a flinch. My heart fell into my stomach and the color drained from my face. _What have I done?_

Even if the boot hit, it never would have hurt him.

He studied the boot for a few seconds, his head tilted to the side. His head cocked in the other direction when he directed his attention to me. Once more he made the rattling sound and I struggled to pull in air.

Thin, red lasers swept across the ground until they came to rest over my heart. Gasping, I staggered backwards and brushed at the front of my shirt, trying to rid myself of the dots. I knew it was pointless. I’d watched enough hitman movies to know a sniper bead when I saw one. There might have been three red dots instead of one, but the meaning was the same.

But I didn't know what else to do.

The boot thumped to the ground, dropped and forgotten. For a few heartbeats that stretched out to feel like hours, he appraised me. I wished I could see an expression, understand what he was thinking. Something mounted on his shoulder turned to face me. A gun? Was this how I was going to die? I swallowed hard and my muscles tensed, ready to fling myself out of the shot.

Yeah, as if.

Ages passed before he shifted his attention away from me. The laser targets arched across the devastation that I had wrought on the eggs. I doubted the scene would upset him, not after his kill. He turned away from me, making it clear he thought I was no threat, and chittered away. His shoulders rotated and he glanced back at me, then growled.

Those weren't angry sounds, I didn't think: they lacked authority. Was—was he _impressed_?

I moved a fraction of an inch to adjust my range of vision and that target snapped back to my chest. I immediately froze. The dots remained for a heartbeat or two, then he turned away with a derisive snort.

The target flickered out of existence.

He. . .wasn't going to kill me. Had I not been against a wall, I would have gone weak with relief. As it were, I remained upright and my eyes locked on him, just in case I'd misinterpreted his actions.

I held my breath and watched him as he moved. It was as if every movement animated his whole body, even the thick strands of braids swung with a sort of grace as he turned. I caught the glint of metal bands around each dreadlock, like jewelry.

Even though he seemed to have no interest in ending my life, I feared moving would provoke him into changing his mind. He stopped by each unconscious person in turn and stood in front of them. Each one he watched, and after a couple seconds, he sank his blade deep into their chests. Some were none the wiser, others on the cusp of awakening jerked and shuddered before falling still.

Gooseflesh prickled my skin and my stomach flopped. Were these mercy killings, or intended to put a stop to the breeding?

Whatever the case, I chose to believe the former.

As he went about his duty, I tried to wrap my head around it all. It was clear I posed no threat, but there couldn't be a reason to keep me alive, either. Maybe it was the destruction I'd caused, maybe it's because I wasn't impregnated. . . .

Maybe it was because we were on the same side. He wasn't asking me to join him, so he didn't want to be allies, though. So what was it?

In the end I decided it didn't matter. He wasn't going to kill me.

That was good enough.

 For a while I watched him, trying to decide what to do. Once he finished off all the infected people, he headed for the exit. Before he turned the corner, his body melted out of view. Camouflage? A cloaking device?

Even though he wasn't going to kill me now, there was a chance he might cause me issue later. Would we meet again while I was trying to escape? What if he stopped me?

Wait. . . . He would know where the exit to the ship was and how to leave. Should I have asked him? I brushed the thought aside soon as it entered my mind; even if he could understand me, there was nothing he'd gain from helping me.

But I didn’t want to be alone. Maybe I should have asked to come with him.

We could have found some way to communicate.

Anderson had told me to escape, that the best chance for my friends' survival was to find help. What could have been my only possible means of escape was walking away as I stood there, trying to decide what to do.    

Time was ticking and he was moving further away. There was a single, straight hallway out of the room, so I was confident I could catch up.

He was my ticket out of here, and he was armed, but that meant it was a gamble. He would be more than capable of killing me if I annoyed him, or if he didn't want a tag-along. It also meant that if there was danger around, he would be ready for it.

I had nothing, and he had everything.

My best bet was to follow him around and hope he didn’t try to kill me when he found me stalking him. I could ride in his wake and maybe get out alive.


	6. Cast a Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been an absolute beast to edit and I still don't feel confident in it. Mostly it's the continuity/composition that feels kind of off to me. Does it flow alright? Is the action jerky and have too many stops? If anyone has any feedback about it I would really appreciate it. XP 
> 
> The next chapter is much of the same, but I'll throw a note up there with specifics. I have not posted these current updated chapters to ff.net yet (ch 6&7 I mean), so y'all are the first ones to see them!

The ship was more of a maze than I first guessed. Though the original hallway was a straight shot out of the chamber, it splintered after several yards. I hadn't seen hide nor hair of the humanoid since I'd left, and the idea that I might not find him again sent shivers up my spine.

I held my breath and listened for footsteps or the rattling sound he made. Anything that would let me know in which direction he'd gone.

There were too many options, even after some of them were blocked by fallen debris.

Despair settled in my chest like a stone: nothing but silence met my efforts.

"No. . .no," I muttered, my voice a whisper. My hands trembled and I brushed away the wetness on my cheeks. Though there was no one to talk to but myself, the silence would drive me mad. "Come back, give me something—anything."

The semi-darkness was worse than actual darkness: it spread shadows that toyed with me. It conjured sounds that weren't there.

I picked one left-most path on a whim and ventured into the darkness. Wandering without a sense of direction was dangerous, but there wasn't much else I could do. It was also the only plan I'd had before deciding to stalk an alien, as well. I didn't know what I'd expected, knowing he was invisible.

How do you follow something you can't see?

Not two minutes into my chosen trail, a screech sounded from behind me. I twisted, throwing myself to the ground to avoid an unseen attack. It was my first experience with a knee-jerk reaction.

A roar followed that screech. I was on my feet again in an instant, sprinting back the way I had come, stopping again at the splintering corridors. After a second I heard the sounds again and took off down a different path. There was no way I was going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. If I wandered alone much longer, something would kill me.

So I ran toward the noises, ignoring the voice in my head telling me to run _away_. The danger was where he was, and even injured after the crash he was better off than I.

Who knew if it was even _my_ humanoid. There had to be other passengers aboard that survived. Others that might not hesitate to end me. Even if it was a different one, one that wouldn't bat an eye at killing me, I had to risk it.

Whatever or whoever it was, they were fighting off multiple enemies. Part of me thought I could help.

_Right. With what weapon?_

The only thing I had resembling one were the steel-toed boots I had looted, and they were too big for me. Too heavy. I couldn't hope to _kick_ the aliens to death, even if they were the right fit.

Gave me a funny mental image, though.

The cluttered hallway opened into an equally cluttered room. There were several pieces of technology strewn about, broken and sparking. Two serpents perched upon the wreckage, their backs to me and the humanoid standing in front of them. I stopped short, afraid they'd see me, but skidded on slime. My arms wind-milled to keep me upright and I stumbled backwards into the hallway, out of sight.

Though the wall obscured my vision in part, I was able to recognize the humanoid as the one from before: the same mask, the same wounds. He held a spear in his hands as he squared off with the shadowy aliens.

Two serpents. One Mr. Universe contestant.

He loosed his spear, pinning one to the wall. It's comrade reacted in kind, leaping at him, but he grabbed it by the throat before it could cause him harm. His wrist blades sang from their gauntlet and he held them over his head. The monster in his grip lashed its tail violently, but was unable to find its mark before he plunged the serrated bladed down, slicing its head in half. He let it go and it dropped lifeless to the ground.

Number Two thrashed where the spear had it pinned, hissing and spitting. Each time it opened its mouth, a second set of jaws popped out, snapping at the air. A shudder went up my spine, but at least it wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

Other serpents were strewn about; he'd already killed so many. Smoke rose from their corpses—or rather, from the floor they settled on. To think he'd taken the half dozen or so aliens by himself. . .while injured. I didn't know _how_ hurt he was, but between the crash and his fights, he had to be in bad shape.

Everything I'd seen so far indicated to the contrary.

He sauntered up to the pinned alien, as if he had all the time in the world. It hissed and lashed out at him with its long, deadly tail. With the same deftness he'd shown earlier, when I'd thrown the boot, he caught the appendage and sliced the sharp tip clean off. The alien screeched in rage, but the humanoid's blade shut it down.

The serpent slumped to the floor as he yanked his spear free. Both his blades and the spear retracted with a metallic hiss; his wrist blades disappeared into his gauntlet, and the spear telescoped inward from both ends.

Like the toy lightsaber my brother played with all the time.

After he considered the corpses he made, the humanoid turned toward my hiding place. I ducked further behind the wall and held my breath, hoping that he hadn't seen me. That same curious chittering noise reached me from my hiding place.

Had I been spotted?

I waited a few seconds before I allowed myself to exhale. Slowly, I leaned so that only half of my face was poking out from the wall. His back was to me, his form receding into the dark tunnel on the other side of the room. After a few more of his long steps I was on my feet, crouching low and trailing after him.

This time he didn't disappear into thin air. I figured it had something to do with the fact that the aliens he was hunting didn't have any eyes. After all, what good was it to hide if your enemy didn't see?

As I trotted after him, I stuck close to the walls. Despite all my conditioning for soccer, I was sweating and panting after only a few minutes. The ship was too hot for the clothes I was wearing, but I didn't want to remove my jacket. Not when it was another layer to protect my fragile skin.

So I would deal with a little perspiration and thirst. Any ounce of protection would help.

If he ever noticed me following him, he showed no signs. It made me feel like I was doing some real spy stuff. Enough time had passed that my heart rate evened out and the adrenaline had faded. All my nerves were on edge still, but I was no longer in flight or fight mode.

It was several minutes before I caught him looking over his shoulder at me. I knew I wasn't being as quiet as I could have been with my over-sized military boots, but I was doing my best.

Each time he turned his head toward me I ducked behind something to hide when I could, and other times I could only flatten myself on the floor. A thick mist floated above ground, and I hoped it covered me well enough. In every instance, he'd wait a few seconds, crackling to himself in a strange way, then move on.

I hated sitting in the fog. It was thick and cloying on my tongue, stealing my breath.

But I stuck it out, more afraid of being caught than of holding my breath for a few seconds.

He moved through the dark corridors with practiced ease, even without a light. I chalked it up to him knowing the ship like the back of his hand. Maybe his mask helped.

Unlike me, who was left to bumble about in the pitch.

An upturned floor panel reached up and grabbed my foot. I let out an undignified squawk before I could stop myself, but managed not to eat it. For a moment I held perfectly still to make sure he hadn't heard, but he wasn't even in sight.

Panic quickened my steps, but as I turned down a bend I found him. He crouched close to the floor, rubbing his fingers together. He stood as I appeared and moved on.

When he was ahead, I scuttled to where he'd been and examined the slime smeared there.

I glanced up, then left to make sure I didn't lose him.

After following him around for who knew how long, I did just that. I couldn't seem to catch my breath no matter what, and even if I pushed myself, the heat and thick air sapped my strength and slowed my every stride.

As I was thinking about giving up, a scuffle urged me onward. When I arrived, I found him under attack in the hallway, facing off with another serpent. I hid, crouched by the stifling floor, and watched him square off with the creature. He widened his stance, arms up and fingers splayed, but had yet to draw a weapon.

Why didn't he use the gun? He'd almost shot me with it earlier, but I had yet to see him kill the alien serpents with it.

Saving ammo?

Instead he favored his wrist blade, extending it with a flex of muscle. There was something different about the alien he was facing: it wasn't so black, more of a muddy brown. The big protrusions I'd noted on others were smaller, and it seemed almost hesitant to attack. Instead it circled, hunched and wary, hissing warnings.

Somehow it seemed smaller. The others I faced had appeared larger than life, and they all held themselves with far more confidence. It was possible there were different types of aliens, I supposed. Not even humans were all the same, after all.

Before I could further study the smaller alien, the humanoid man-beast made his move. He lunged and the serpent hissed, meeting him half way in an act of self-defense. Their grappling match didn't last long, maybe fifteen seconds. My escort dispatched it with a few swipes of his blade, growling in satisfaction.

Just like the rest, the ground hissed where the creature landed. It hadn't happened in the egg chamber, where slime and resin covered the floors and walls.

The acid on my boots, on the floors. . . . It didn't seem to affect themselves.

Lost in thought, I nearly missed the sharp growl from across the room. I'd been staring at the dead serpent, captivated by the fact that these things had acid blood. My unwitting escort had made the noise, and by the time I looked up, his back was to me and he was leaving.

I was beginning to believe he _did_ know I was following him. Maybe that he even _wanted_ me to. I couldn't think of why, though, so I brushed the thought aside.

Careful not to step in the corrosive blood, I jogged after the humanoid. He was already around another corner. When I caught up, I made sure to keep at least ten steps behind him, sometimes even farther back. If I was too far behind, I couldn't see him in the darkness, and I didn't want to lose him again. The next time I did, I might not find him again.

Where was he even going? Something told me it wasn't out of the ship.

It seemed more likely, based on the way he followed their trails, that he was hunting them. He reacted to each screech with a sharp turn, an idle rattle. Every now and again he would check a digital map projected from his wrist computer and alter course.

Holograms. Should have expected it.

Sometimes I thought he was looking for something else, as well. Several times I lost him, only to find him emerging from a room. His movements were always subdued afterwards, head tilted down and shoulders rolling. Either he didn't like what he found, or he hadn't found what he wanted to. He always closed the doors behind him, so I never found out what was inside.

Every one of my muscles ached. The heat was dragging me down and I thought about ditching my jacket several times, only to remind myself that I needed it. My throat was dry, and I lagged farther and farther behind.

Soon, he was out of eyesight and hearing range.

Sweat dripped down my brow and I knew I couldn't handle it any longer. I shed my winter coat and tied it around my waist, loathe to leave it behind. I was instantly cooler, and I rolled up my shirt's long sleeves.

If I could take off my long underwear, I would have.

I needed to take a break, to catch my breath, but I couldn't afford it. I'd never been so breathless after walking, and it felt like something was squeezing my chest. In areas where the mist was thickest, I found the hardest time breathing.

It had to be the atmosphere in the ship, or the mist itself. Something to help the humanoid's species breathe. The system must not have been damaged in the crash.

Whatever it was, it didn't agree with my lungs.

Still I pushed on. Having a hard time breathing wasn't something I was new to. It wasn't like it in every part of the ship, either. It seemed to worsen deeper in, only for me to find relief in other sections. Malfunctioning equipment, no doubt. Or holes in the hull leaking air from outside. Possibly both.

Finally, several minutes after losing him, I found him. Loose wires and tubing concealed his shape, but I caught a glimpse of him standing statue-still, his head inclined in my direction. When I pushed through the fallen circuitry, his back was to me and he was walking again.

He couldn't have been waiting for me. I had to have imagined it. I couldn't fathom where he'd be leading me or why he'd be leading me there.

Unless it was a trap.

That was an all-too-real possibility and I considered abandoning the game I was playing. He wasn't looking for an exit and I was, so I would be better off finding my own way.

No, there wasn't even an ounce of truth in that. I had no weapon, and so far he'd fielded all the attacks. Not only that, but the ship was huge. I'd been following him for what seemed to be an hour and I felt like we hadn't even scratched the surface. What more could there be in the ship? How many rooms, how many paths? There was no way I would be able to navigate it.

Following him was still my best shot. Maybe I should let him catch me, or force him to acknowledge me. I was tired of sticking to the shadows, wondering where we were going. If he wasn't going to kill me, then maybe I could convince him to help and stop the game of cat and mouse.

What did I have to lose by trying? Well, except my life.

With that thought in mind, I stood up straight and jogged around the corner. He'd passed it only seconds before me, so it would be nothing to catch him.

I trotted into the next hallway and found it empty. No humanoid. No serpents.

There was nothing but mist and a few panels from the ceiling hanging down.

Wherever he'd gone to, he'd taken my hope with him.

_Of course._

He'd been suspicious of my stalking the entire time. It was only a matter of _when_ he tired of my shenanigans and cloaked himself to ditch me. I hurried for a while longer, thinking maybe he'd pulled farther ahead of me than I thought, but he wasn't there.

He wasn't anywhere. Just gone.

"Shit, shit, shit," I whispered, running my hand through my damp, sticky ponytail.

Now I was alone.

Now I was going to have to find the way out on my own.

And fend off those things by myself. . .somehow.

After a few deep breaths to steady myself, I accepted my fate. I'd have to cut my losses and leave the damned ship. Plan B hadn't worked, so it was back to Plan A—wander aimlessly and try to find my way out as fast as I could. My escort had caught me and decided he didn't want to fill that position anymore. There had to be a way off: the black bug-serpent-things were finding a way, and they were blind for Pete's sake.

All around me, the darkness closed in and threatened to drag me under. Dread crept into my soul and I fought not to drown.

High up on the walls, strange markings gave off an ambient red glow. Though their main purpose didn't seem to be lighting the way, it kept me from being cast in utter darkness. I focused on the lights and let them chase away the shadows.

Nerves steeled, I rubbed my face and followed the hallway onward.

*:･ﾟ✧

Desperate and afraid, I followed a noise and everything it promised down a hallway. I didn't know exactly what the sound was, but it meant something was alive.

And, at the very least, that something _wasn't_ a serpent.

Without a deadline or a pace to keep up with, I'd taken a moment to find a niche and wiggle in to rest. I'd shed some of my other layers, shuffling clothes around until I was no longer wearing my long johns, just the long-sleeve shirt and my jeans. It lightened my load and cooled me down, and I left them there, seeing no reason to keep them.

It was around that time that the sound started.

Whatever it was, it began as a faint whisper on the stale air. I hadn't heard anything in nearly twenty minutes, which I'd counted as a blessing. After it reached me, I had a new goal and I'd clung to it, hoping it was the humanoid or another person.

Minutes into the corridor, the sound was louder and easier to comprehend: a voice.

A human voice.

Despite the heat, ice crawled down the back of my neck and I broke into a light jog, following the call for help. It was weak, as if they had given up hope but still felt the need to try. Though I didn't recognize it, I was all too happy to see another living person.

The voice of reason deep within my mind reminded me they were likely dead to rights. But I pushed such thoughts away. If it meant having company for a while, so be it.

"Hello?" I called, voice soft and timid. I'd reached an opening in the wall, the room inside a dark void. It was where I'd heard the person calling, but I wasn't about to enter until I was certain. All was quiet in the room for a moment.

After a pause, they spoke up. "Someone's there? Oh thank god, get in here and help me down."

I rubbed and squeezed my hands together, uncertain. The nagging voice in my head was telling me to leave them to their death. Visions of Anderson bucking and choking bubbled to the surface and I clenched my eyes shut against them.

"You still there? Hurry up before those sons of bitches come back! What are you waiting for?"

Bad thoughts be damned. I didn't want to be alone.

"Coming," I answered, venturing into the darkness.

Several steps in, I tripped over something knee-high and soft. I hit the ground, jarring my wrists, and scrambled to my feet.

"Watch it," the man inside hissed. "There are eggs all over the place."

The room was darker than any other so far. A light flickered in the corner, but the room had lost power otherwise.

_"There are eggs all over the place."_

All color drained from my face when I realized what that meant. I didn't know why it came as a surprise, but it left a bad taste in my mouth all the same.

My sight attuned to the dark and my pulse roared in my ears—more people on the wall. Open eggs. Dead facehuggers peppering the ground. Holes in chests. I panted ragged breaths, tears pricking my eyes. For a moment I'd forgotten about the man I'd come to help and all I saw were the people staring at me with their sightless gazes.

"Hey! Don't—Christ, you're just a kid. Okay, listen. Look at me. I'm over here. Hey!"

His commanding tone was enough to snap me from my waking nightmare. I searched the room until my attention fell on the only living and conscious person present.

There were plenty of military people, and others yet were the missing hikers and rangers.

"Yes, that's it. Come here and help me down. Please." His tone was softer, his expression sympathetic. I hesitated another moment, then picked my way around the eggs until I stood before him. Something squished under my boots but I didn't dare look.

"What's your name?" he asked as I started pulling at the resin cocoon confining him to the wall.

I didn't look up from my work, and little by little I wore down the material. "Nichole."

"Nichole what?"

His arm came free and he helped to break apart the rest of his prison. I replied, "Nichole Shain."

He didn't offer his name until the cocoon was loose enough for him to fall free. I backed up to give him room and he wiggled out of the last strains of resin, then fell to the floor. I offered him a hand and he let me help him to his shaky legs. How much time did he have?

"Name's Henry Simmons. Thanks for the assist, Ms. Shain. How'd you get out? How long have you been here? This is a quarantined zone, didn't Anderson tell everyone to stay away? What about our perimeters. . . ," he muttered, holding tight to my shoulder.

Anderson's name sent a sharp pang through my heart and I lowered my head. "There wasn't anyone at the park, we hiked in and the things got us. Anderson. . .he helped me escape."

Simmons nodded and shifted his grip to my upper arm, squeezing hard enough to hurt. I ignored the pain and stumbled after him as he dragged me toward the opening. He glanced at me and said, "He's not with you, so I assume he's dead?"

I nodded and fought to keep my face from twisting with anguish.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hand to his head. He glanced around, then pushed us against the wall, peering into the brighter hallway. Every few seconds, he suppressed a cough. "Have you run into any other survivors?"

"You're the first."

_Except for the alien gladiator._

"There's no telling how many of those things are out there. We'll have to move quick. Stay behind me and stay quiet." He paused to cough and cleared his throat. "Don't know how far I'll make it, but I'll get you out."

My gaze fell to the empty holster on his hip and I blinked. No gun. No weapon. He couldn't do any of those things without a weapon.

"Where's your gun?" I asked aloud.

He glanced at his belt, then did a double take.

"Shit," he muttered, patting himself down. "I must have dropped it when those fuckers dragged me here. We'll have to hurry before the eggs start hatching. Stay here."

Without another thought he went to work rooting through the effects of the others. I stood against the wall, wringing my hands, my eyes locked on the eggs. They seemed dormant now, but I knew they could start hatching at any moment.

"Be careful with guns," I advised. "When I used one earlier it lured a bunch of the black things to where I was."

Simmons glanced over his shoulder, but otherwise paid my warning no heed. "Where is it now?"

"What?"

"The gun."

I pressed my lips together and fidgeted where I stood. "It ran out of ammo so I left it."

"Fair enough."

It was amazing how easy it was for him, moving from corpse to corpse without a care. How many times had he had to do this very thing?

Chewing on my bottom lip, I poked my head out of the room to check the corridor. There were no enemies, but screeches were coming from deep within. Even though he told me to stay put, I didn't want to be alone at the only entrance. I shuffled over to him but gave him some space.

"Find anything?" I asked after a moment. We'd been in there too long, and the eggs made me uncomfortable. They started to rustle.

When he turned around, he was holding a single handgun and a tactical knife. He handed me the knife and began examining the gun. The knife was heavier than I thought it would be, but it filled me with a bit of confidence. The blade itself wasn't very big, but it was ten times better than nothing.

_Nice, now I can stab one whole alien. Probably wouldn't even kill it._

I wished the voice in my head would keep quiet for once.

"They ambushed us at our base," Simmons said, slapping the clip back into the gun. "We had all our firepower back there, so there's not much here. I've got ten shots, so let's try not to meet these fuckers on the way out."

His coughing started again and set my shoulders to trembling. I tracked his movements as he started to the doorway, my mouth hanging open with unspoken words.

One of the eggs squelched and I jumped, then ran to catch up with Simmons.

"Are you okay?" I asked, standing by his side and holding my knife in both hands. He strafed along the walls and I followed behind with half the stealth he showed, knowing it did no good. "You know what happens to people, right?"

He motioned for me to follow, then stopped and doubled over. My muscles coiled into tight springs as he wheezed and hacked, shoulders rocking. Each sharp breath he drew caused pins and needles to prickle across my skin, but eventually he straightened. He cleared his throat and said, "I'll be fine for a little bit. What about you?"

"I got out before anything could happen. If Anderson hadn't helped, I wouldn't have made it out at all," I murmured, gripping the collar of my shirt.

Nodding, Simmons kept us moving.

"Ah, wait." He stopped and dug around in his pocket, then produced a handful of chains and a bunch of ID cards. "Hold these for me. Did you happen to grab the ones from the room you were in?"

I took the chains and untangled them, finding the flat metal of dog tags. He'd been looking for more than just weapons on those bodies and my throat tightened. "No I, I didn't think. . .didn't know I should have. . . ."

Simmons pat my shoulder and offered a terse smile. "That's fine, I didn't expect you to, just asking, that's all."

"Why do you need them?" I asked as we walked, draping each tag around my neck.

"Don't know what these things do. They might eat us, and then we wouldn't be able to identify the bodies. Could just leave 'em for when backup arrives, but easier to grab 'em now."

"Backup?" I stuck the hikers' IDs in my pockets and tucked the dog tags under my shirt.

"We're supposed to check in at 0600, and when we don't they'll come."

That was so far away, I realized after I checked my phone. Another few hours. However, if they were coming that meant there was hope I'd make it out.


	7. Die Trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'll need a bit more feedback on this one as well, if anyone can think of something. :) Mostly about how...realistic it is? Do the conclusions Nichole comes to make sense? Am I forcing something to work that just doesn't? And above all, does it flow alright? I don't want it to seem jerky, especially since I split this from chapter 6 and spliced it together with part of chapter eight, which I haven't fully edited yet. Thanks in advance!

The dog tags bumped my chest as we moved, and I had a sinking feeling that Simmons gave them to me because he knew they had a better chance of making it out.

Three minutes later, the hallway forked and Simmons led me down the right-side path, and it was mere steps down the path before one of the serpents found us. Its high-pitched cry shattered my nerves and Simmons pulled me behind him, gun sighted.

Sure, I manage to avoid coming upon one _until_ I buddy up with a partner.

Darkness extended in front and behind. Simmons backed up, pushing me against a wall, and I held still with the flat side of the knife against my chest.

Something dripped on my shoulder from above; chrome fangs glistened as I turned my gaze. The scream ripped from my throat before I could stop it and I pushed away from the wall, blundering into Simmons. The soldier shouted and shoved me around so he could stay in front of me.

"How the fuck did it get behind us?" he growled, firing at the ebony beast.

It squealed and ducked as the bullets pelted its head, but it seemed to have little more effect than a BB gun. Simmons pushed us backwards as it leaped down from its perch, tail lashing behind it and teeth bared. I held the knife out with both hands, but I wasn't sure what good it would do.

Too late I thought about counting his shots.

He fired a few more rounds, those bullets finding target in the alien's chest. It staggered and squealed, yellow acid dripping from the wounds, but it seemed only to make it angrier.

That was all he had. His gun clicked several times and he spat a curse before throwing it at our enemy. The firearm bounced off its armored head and it hissed in irritation. Simmons turned and wrenched the knife from my grasp and a protest died in my throat.

What was I going to do with it that he couldn't do better?

Though Simmons was doing his best to hide it, I could see how much pain he was in. He was doubled over, one arm pressed against his chest and teeth gritted. His shoulders hunched inward and he suppressed a cough before speaking.

"Run, I'll hold it off. You have to get out of here!" he demanded. I stood paralyzed for a moment, wondering if I could help but knowing it was pointless.

He shouted, "Go on!"

This time I didn't hesitate. The authority in his voice was enough to send me sprinting in the opposite direction. Behind me the serpent screeched and Simmons yelled a battle cry. My legs pumped and I didn't look back.

_Running again_.

_Always leaving others behind._

What could I do? He'd taken my weapon, and he was going to die no matter what. If not from the serpent, then from the one growing inside him.

The helplessness sapped my strength and my will. I could do nothing but run and rely on other people to save me. The monsters were invincible to anything but what the humanoid carried. He'd made it clear that he didn't want a tag-along, so I was as good as dead in here.

No one would save me, and I was barely capable of saving myself.

Running was all I could do to delay the inevitable.

Simmons didn't buy me much time. I didn't expect him to. It still startled me when the monster struck me from behind and knocked me flat on my stomach.

I flipped over onto my back and had just enough time to roll out of the way before its tail could skewer me. There wasn't enough time to stand. I kept rolling as its tail stabbed into the ground after me, then jerked to a stop when it pinned my jacket.

My hands fumbled with the knot while the serpent fought to free its tail. The jacket came loose first and I crawled away from it a ways before scrambling to my feet. Not long after, it shunted into me and I was sent sprawling again. The wind rushed from my lungs and I wheezed, still trying to find my footing. Claws raked down my back, tearing my shirt and skin, and I wailed, my back arched.

Cold metal brushed my fingers and they curled around a piece of debris the size of a football. My teeth ground together and I turned around swinging.

Somehow, I hit.

The sound of metal against chitin was satisfying, but my elbows jarred at the impact. It wasn't even enough to stun it for more than a split second. The serpent-bug lashed out in kind, smacking me with a strong claw. I was reduced to being prone once more, my impromptu weapon sent skittering across the floor and out of reach.

This time I couldn't stand before it was on me, pinning me down. It bared its teeth in a perverted version of a grin.

No matter how I struggled, it wouldn't budge.

Out of the corner of my eye its tail rose, arched high and poised to strike. Tears fell uninhibited down my cheeks and I choked out a helpless sob. It hissed and viscous saliva dripped from its maw, pooling on my chest. Its tail made it three inches through the air before jerking to a stop. Though it didn't remove its weight from atop me, the beast went rigid. Claws drew pinpricks of pain in my arm as it turned its head to see what held it.

Just as before, the humanoid alien melted into view, taloned hand holding the tail.

At the same time the serpent turned to strike, he heaved the thing through the air with a mighty swing. It slammed into the wall and he approached its crumpled form with a low rattle.

Before it could recover, he pulled his spear from its place on his back. It extended with a flourish and he thrust it through the alien's skull in the same graceful swing. It let out a strangled screech before going limp where it was.

_Head shots, like a zombie._

I tore my gaze from the corpse to look up at him. He twitched his head to the side, dreadlocks clattering together. The same mask. It was my good old buddy.

Somehow, he'd found me.

Or had he never left? Had he been following me the whole time? It seemed impossible that he'd just happen upon me by luck. There hadn't been any signs, though. He hadn't made any noises or anything. I couldn't imagine why he would have been following me, why he would have gone through the trouble.

We watched each other for a few seconds before I averted my gaze. I managed to sit up and wrap my arms around myself to keep from splitting at the seams. Tremors threatened to shake loose all my bits and pieces.

_It was going to kill me._

No more escape. No more chances. It wasn't going to cocoon me to a wall and try again. The alien just wanted me out of the picture.

But he'd come, and he'd stopped it.

He had to have been following me. I'd turned down so many random corridors for almost half an hour, forty-five minutes. There was no way he happened upon me. Following me made no sense, either, so I wondered if he'd heard the commotion nearby and came to investigate.

Why bother saving me? Maybe he hadn't done it on purpose.

I picked myself up and winced when the various scratches rubbed against the fabric of my clothes. Shouldn't have taken my jacket off.

"Have you been following me?" I asked, tone sharper than I'd intended.

He turned to face me full on and I quailed. So close to him I realized exactly how giant he was. Never had I felt so small and weak: he had to be eight feet tall, maybe three hundred pounds. All of it muscle, and he was armed to the teeth.

_Don't sass the armed killing machine_.

What was I doing anyway, talking to an alien? It wasn't like he could understand me. For all he knew I was insulting his mother.

When he took another step toward me I snapped my head up, afraid he might strike me. I would have moved backwards more, but there was a wall blocking my path. My fear flared and I lifted my hands as if to protect myself from his attack—as if it were possible.

One backhand was sure to leave me down for the count.

His head tilted to the side, and then a voice echoed from his mask. _"Have you been following me?"_ it asked.

Not his voice. Mine, tinny and mechanical.

A recording? Was he recording everything? Communication, surveillance, research, there were plenty of reasons why he might do that, but the thing that struck me the most was that he understood what I'd asked. He comprehended enough of what I'd said to play back the correct phrase and throw my question back in my face. What the hell kind of alien was this, and how long had they been on Earth?

Or how often did they _visit_ Earth?

"You can understand me?" I asked, my head spinning at all the possibilities and implications. He'd known I'd been following him, and now I felt only embarrassment at thinking I'd been slick.

_Nichole: World-class spy. As if._

After glancing me over, he made a gruff sound and dipped his head once. It was a slow, deliberate, and exaggerated motion. It wasn't the quick nods I was used to, but close enough.

Translator, or good with languages?

I opened my mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out so I closed it again. He filled the silence by playing my voice back at me once more, demanding to know. I imagined the low chittering sound he made now was in irritation as I ignored his question.

My mouth bobbed as I tried to find the words, then I finally said, "I asked you first."

He snorted and extended his hand toward me, making me flinch in expectation of an attack. Instead, the weight pressed on my shoulder and he moved me out of the way with shove. The action sent me staggering behind him, nearly falling.

Biting back a protest I turned, watching him. I was against a wall, so I hadn't been in his way. He'd just shoved me because he was mad and started to walk away, leaving me behind.

His form melted into nothingness.

_Not this time._

"Hey! Hey come back here!" I shouted, running him down in the hallway after grabbing my jacket. I slammed into his invisible back with enough force to almost flatten me and he reappeared with a snarl, whirling around to face me.

Without flinching I regained my balance. "I'm coming with you!" I snapped.

The humanoid cocked his head to the side and rumbled an incredulous question. Before he could make any more noise, I continued on with my rant. "I can help, or something. I'll. . .I can be bait, or if you give me a weapon I can fight!"

_Like he'd give you one_.

He regarded me for several heartbeats and I tried to seem firm. I hoped he didn't notice the way my hands trembled, or how my heart stuttered. After several seconds, he turned to the side and made a wry crackling sound before playing back another clip of my voice. _"Bait."_

It wasn't what I'd hoped, but he was going to let me follow him around nonetheless.

Despite how he ignored my question on purpose, I asked again. "Can I at least have a weapon?"

His head shook and at first I thought it was to indicate in the negative, but he looked around. I surmised it might be to show exasperation, but I wasn't sure. I waited for him to do whatever it was he was doing, and finally he walked toward the wall and leaned down to pick something up.

_"Weapon,"_ he played back, dropping a piece of scrap metal into my waiting palm. The same piece of scrap metal I'd used on the serpent moments prior.

My expression flattened and I huffed. He'd been watching at least that long.

"Oh you got jokes, do ya?" Under my breath I added, "Bastard. . . ."

Still, I kept it held tightly in my hand as he pushed me onward.

*:･ﾟ✧

Minutes into our journey, I spotted Simmons' prone form ahead. I crept toward him only to find he was missing his chest. Squeaking, I fumbled backwards into the solid wall that was my guide. He growled and steered me around the body, his heavy hand on my shoulder. I glanced back at the soldier I'd known for all of two minutes, then let the humanoid push me on.

_You knew,_ I reminded myself. _It wasn't going to end any other way for him._

Closing my eyes tight, I tried to ignore the playback image of his face. I took a deep breath and shoved it into the back of my mind with the rest of the horrific shit.

Simmons was otherwise unmarred by other injuries. The creature had ignored him for me.

From there on, my escort remained in cloak during our travels. I could hear him behind me, but only if I listened really hard for the sound of his footfalls. For being so huge, he could be silent as a cat. It was almost as if he wasn't there at all. Like I was alone.

Whenever I was close to panicking, he came up behind me and bumped my shoulder, as if reminding me he was there. Even though he was a little rough, it always served to calm me down. I couldn't decide if he was doing it for the express purpose of comforting me, or if it was in his best interest. I imagined he wouldn't put up with me having a breakdown.

I didn't want to have a panic attack in front of him, either. Not after talking all that good shit to convince him to take me with him.

Still, for the first time that night, I felt sort of safe.

Safe enough to pull my phone and use the flashlight. Safe enough to walk tall instead of crouched and scuttling like a rat in a sewer.

The numbers on my screen told me I'd been on the ship for a little more than two hours. The sun would rise in another three or four, but it would be longer than that before my parents realized I was missing: I slept in late on the weekends.

But, only two and a half hours until the military realized something was wrong.

_Focus. Focus._

I was still holding the hunk of metal that he'd given me. The whole thing had been his sad attempt at humor I was sure, but there I was, hanging on to it anyway.

In the end it gave me something to concentrate on other than my impending doom.

We walked in never ending silence, though questions about him and his race burned inside me. He could understand me, but it seemed unlikely he would be able to communicate to me with any clarity. I wasn't sure how comfortable I was to be able to strum up conversation, anyway.

Navigating was difficult. I had no idea where I was going, so I had to rely on my escort's rough shoves in the right direction.

Outside of the egg chambers, there wasn't much resin coating the passages. Some places had the beginnings of nest material, but left unfinished for whatever reason. There wasn't much to see in the hallways except for the occasional strange marking or broken panels. The mist swirled around our feet, and my chest burned.

Every time we passed a doorway (most of them I didn't see until he went through them), he would pull me to a stop. The first few times I would attempt to follow him, and each time he growled at me until I finally stopped trying.

"What are you looking for?" I asked when he emerged from one such room.

As I expected, he answered with nothing more than a chuff and pushed me onward. The bright green blood of his people tipped his fingers.

We came to a fork in the path and he gave me no indication of which way to go, so I picked one at random. His means of correcting me was to grab my arm with a too-hard grip and whirled me around in the opposite direction. It was followed by a reprimanding, sharp trill. It almost sent me sprawling to the floor, but I caught myself.

"Watch it, meat head! Don't make me lead if you don't like where I go!" I barked at him, indignant. I regretted it as soon as it was out of my mouth, but he didn't chide or strike me.

Probably because he knew he'd break his new toy if he did.

Despite the fact that we'd been wandering for what seemed like hours we didn't run into any signs of life. There were no night-black monsters, and none of his kind. We heard them, though, and their horrible nails-on-chalkboard screech.

I was doing what I could, too. I called out every now and again, trying to see if I could bait a creature into coming or maybe even find other survivors. The section of the ship we were in was devoid of life. He seemed unconcerned with what I did until I tried to go down the wrong path—a path that he seemed to want to take.

There were others on the ship, though. His hands were stained with the blood of his fallen friends. He was looking for more survivors.

When I was about to ask and confirm my thoughts, a sound in the distance brought us both to pause. It was far different from the sounds the rest made: louder, angrier. A raspy roar that ended with a rolling hiss. Seconds later it was followed by a bellow like a high-pitched tyrannosaurs.

Whatever it was, it was coming toward us. The hall was soon filled with sudden pulses of shrill, echoing crackles. They were not unlike the rattling sounds he made.

"What is that?" I asked, my voice small as I lifted a hand to see if I could touch him. Find him.

My escort reappeared with an arch of electricity and shoved me forward into a sprint. He didn't have to tell me twice, but I didn't run far before he shoved me into a dark room. He swung me around by the arm until I was flat against the wall and out of view of the hallway. I grunted and shot him a glare, rubbing my arm.

It was a small chamber, empty save for the irregular lumps in the center and a single metal table against the wall. There were no people mounted up in cocoons, though the walls were decorated with dried slime. Eggs had been left there for storage.

Waiting for victims to impregnate.

_Impregnate._ The word sent tremors chasing down my spine.

Another bout of echoing crackles resonated down the hall and brought me from my trance. I poked my head out to look down the hallway, but saw nothing. My escort was still outside, fingers flexing at his sides. Every now and again I heard terse clicking from under his mask.

Far down the hallway, something moved.

I turned a questioning gaze to him, but his attention was down the corridor. The shrill roar made me jump and I ducked behind the wall, clutching the metal in my hands.

"What's going on? What are we doing?" I asked in a stage whisper.

He turned toward me, then pointed at the spot I was standing. I blinked at him and shook my head. He babbled nonsense at me and put his palm up. That was a sign I knew: stay. Then he turned away and disappeared down the hallway, not bothering with his invisibility.

My eyes narrowed and I let out my breath in a rush of air. "Wonderful."

Aggravated, I turned my repressed anger to the nearest egg, pushing it over onto its side with the flat of my foot. I applied pressure until it popped like a melon and spilled unpleasantness all over the floor at my feet.

As if the creature knew, it shrieked and heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. I turned in time to see my escort shooting past the doorway.

Was he. . . _running_?

Fear wrapped its icy fingers around my heart and I dove to the floor, away from the opening so I was out of sight. Each step the unseen monster took, the ground shuddered. I pressed myself hard against the wall and clapped my hands over my ears to block out the rapid sounds pummeling the air.

There was no way anything less than a train was barreling down the hallway. It shook the ground as it pounded after my escort, snorting and hissing. My wall shook and rained dust and small chunks of debris over me. That strange clicking continued, rapid and unrelenting. I clenched my eyes, took a breath, then leaned out the opening as it passed to take a peek at what it was. I only caught a glimpse, but from that I knew one thing: it was _massive._

It barely fit in the hallway, tearing down panels and wiring as it crashed through the thin corridor. Its thick, spiked tail slapped against the walls and I flinched back, avoiding being crushed by a hunk of construction. An extra set of legs powered it around a corner, breaking a chunk off as it disappeared with an angry sound.

_Oh my god oh my god what are we going to do? It's huge!_

It's strange calls petered out as it ran after my escort. The familiar screeches of the others zipped past as well, following their leader. I shrank further into the darkness, praying that none of them noticed me.

All my optimism sank away with my escort—if he couldn't handle that monstrosity and its minions, that was the end of it.

I waited ten or fifteen seconds after the noises died, then let go of my knees and stood. Part of me wanted to follow after the humanoid, but the other part didn't want to go against his orders. He wanted me to stay, so I knew he'd come back for me at some point. If he did, the last thing I wanted to do was go gallivanting around the ship and make it hard for him to find me.

Unless he was dead. Then I'd be stuck in the room forever, waiting for him to return when he never would. At some point I'd just have to leave.

Or maybe waiting was a good thing. If I could stay in this room undiscovered, then at some point the military would show up and rescue me. The only thing wrong with that was I was in their egg storage room. . .so eventually the serpents would show up.

Either that or the eggs would hatch and I'd have to fend off the facehuggers again. If I wanted to wait, I'd have to destroy the eggs and make sure I had less issues.

After all, I'd always been told to stay put if I was lost.

A thought occurred to me and I pulled out my cell phone to check the reception. I had little hope that it would work, and wasn't disappointed when I didn't have a signal. It still burned me up inside with irritation, but I was able to move past it.

With the stupid chunk of scrap metal in hand, I set about breaking the eggs. I was careful not to disturb the unborn facehuggers, as the goo inside the egg didn't seem to be acidic. My mistake in the first egg chamber had been stomping the creatures inside the eggs to mush: they were the ones filled with corrosive blood.

There were a few more than a dozen eggs in the small room, stacked neatly next to one another. I tipped them all over one by one, stepping on them until they ruptured.

It was a mindless enough task, leaving me to think about how many monsters there were. It had to have been three or four dozen at this point. Did my escort plan to kill them all by himself, or did he have other survivors running around and helping?

Even if there were other humanoids, I didn't think they could kill them all before they found their way to town.

Hopefully that would take them some time. My friends and I had hiked for a while, making it maybe two or three miles into the park. Town was already miles away from the park, then however far away the ship was from where they'd caught us.

How fast could these things cover ground?

Halfway through the eggs, the fate of my friends wiggled into my brain. I wondered if they were dead, or if they had managed to make it out like I had. Maybe they were even sneaking around the ship.

I smashed my hands against my forehead and whined through clenched teeth. _Focus on the here. Focus on the now_. Surviving would be impossible if I didn't concentrate. At some point we would come across my friends. If I could stay in this alien's good graces, he might help me rescue them from their predicament.

If they weren't already dead.

"Don't—think—like—that!" I grunted as I pushed over another egg, panting.

Upon popping it, the premature facehugger inside writhed and squealed, skittering around. I gasped and leaped away from it, but it seemed disoriented. After a minute, it flipped over and twitched until it died. The thing was half the size of the ones I'd seen before, and the color of bile instead of ashen. It was the only one that moved, so I wondered how close it had been to hatching.

There were two eggs left. I kept myself busy by muttering nonsense to myself, complaining about how my escort treated me.

Hissing drew me from my distractions.

I'd been caught with my foot planted atop the second to last egg, pressing down on it. Me and the bug-thing stared at each other for a moment, its lips drawn back in a silent snarl and tail twitching behind it. It crouched there, with its hands curled against its chest, hiding its full size.

When it moved toward me, I screeched something akin to a battle cry and stomped on the egg. Its contents spilled over the resin-covered floor in a gush, the premature facehugger flopping before me. I stared at it, then added insult to injury by kicking the parasite toward its brethren. I knew it was a terrible idea as soon as I did it.

It ducked to avoid the dead projectile and swung its head toward me with a blood-curdling scream. I was afraid it would attack right then, but instead it turned to approach the dead facehugger with a warbled whine.

The alien sidled up next to the dead embryo and nosed it. I thought I heard it keen in mourning, and I couldn't dredge up even the smallest amount of sympathy.

Its head swiveled to face me and my body went rigid as stone. Liquid fire burned through my veins as adrenaline kicked in. I held the chunk of metal above my head, ready to bash the monster. Not like it was actually going to save me from the demon.

After all, when I'd used it on the last one, I'd stunned it for a single second. It hadn't been enough time to do _anything_.

"Any second now. . . ," I whispered to myself.

Any second and he'd show up. He'd kill it, and I'd be okay.

I held my ground even as it advanced on me, certain that the big goon would materialize and save me. There was only one for him to kill. If any others showed up, I'd find a way to help. Or hide. There had to be something I could do.

But he didn't, even as the serpent-bug rose to its full height. He didn't, even as it took a step toward me, ready to strike.


	8. Open Sore

I whimpered and looked around, then leaped over to the final egg and put my foot on top of it. "Don't come near me!" I shouted, uncertain if they could understand me but willing to try anyway.

Even if it couldn't comprehend the words, it seemed to appreciate the gesture. The serpent swung its head this way and that, sizing me up, then took a step backward. I relieved some of the pressure on the egg, but when it advanced I stepped down harder. It retreated and its tail lashed like an angry cat's.

A new sense of power washed over me and I sneered at the beast. "Get back! Get back or I'll destroy it!" Bravado filled me and I leaned forward to make it retreat further.

This time when it took a step back, it tilted its head back and cried. The suddenness made me push down harder than I meant and the egg burst beneath me. The serpent's tail arched high and it continued the cry for several seconds.

_It's calling for help._

_I'm dead._

More screeches broadcast in response and the trembling in my limbs started anew. With a fearful squawk, I danced away from the broken egg, stumbling on my too-big boots. The egg goo on the ground compromised my traction and I almost fell.

The beast screeched and lunged for me, determined to exact its swift revenge.

" _Any second now_!" I shouted, using all my strength and weight to slam the hunk of metal down atop the creature's head. It jerked and squealed in surprise, backing up.

How stupid to think he was going to go out of his way to help me. We didn't worry about the well-being of the bait on our fishing lines, so why would this alien care about me? I was just a worm on a hook, dangled out for the piranhas to eat.

Maybe he was even dead.

I couldn't rely on anyone. If there was anything I needed to get through my head, it was that. Anderson was dead, Simmons was dead, and now my escort was, too.

When the serpent came back for round two, it was ready. It dodged my swing and tackled me to the ground, forcing air from my lungs. Claws raked down my shoulder blade when I twisted to wrench myself from underneath it, eliciting a strangled wail from me.

Though I doubled my efforts, my arms wouldn't hold up my weight. The creature was heavy on my back, and I couldn't find the leverage to throw it off.

_You can't even rely on yourself. You're not strong enough._

There were other screeches from behind us, but I couldn't concern myself with them. Not when I had enough to deal with on top of me already.

Then I heard a familiar roar and splat of eviscerated enemies.

He wasn't dead! He'd come back; somehow he'd shaken the giant monster from his tail and doubled back for me. I could take some solace in the fact that he was holding off the help that the one attacking me had called.

_My. Fucking. Hero._

But I still had to live through the _one_ trying to maul me—and it was doing a fairly good job of it.

Claws dug into my shoulders and I squirmed, tears stinging and blurring my vision. I needed to roll over to my back, then I could use that hilarious weapon he'd given me for something. Maybe if I could hit the serpent enough with it, I could kill it. Or stun it.

If he could hold off all those others, I _should_ be able to take care of this one. Just the one!

Grunting, I flailed backward, swinging my arms and throwing everything I had into moving. The serpent snarled, but somehow I was able to flip over. I earned a face full of teeth for my troubles, and pain erupted from my shoulder in a shower of white-hot sparks. I let out an initial shriek of pain, then lost my voice.

I gaped up at it soundlessly until a strangled moan gurgled in my throat. It was like being punched and stabbed at the same time. The pain flared from the wound and radiated all the way down to my fingers and toes. It turned my thoughts to static and left me gasping for breath.

Its second set of jaws retreated into its mouth. Had I not been struggling with such vehemence, it might have given me a hole in my face instead of my shoulder.

The pain sapped all the strength from my body and I went limp the moment its weight was lifted off me. Now free, I curled in on myself and pressed both of my hands against my shoulder, piece of metal forgotten at my side. My breath came in short gasps and my frame shook. Tears slid freely down my cheeks, though I strained to suck them up, tried hard to hide that kind of weakness.

In lieu of tears, I ground my teeth together and screamed internally, the sound coming out as a low groan. I remained in the fetal position as long as I dared to, clutching the injury and telling myself I was going to be fine.

Still, some tears slipped through my defenses.

Through my pained whimpers and shudders, I heard the tail end of the scuffle. A single death wail rang out, signaling the fall of the last drone, then all was quiet. I gulped down one more trembling breath, then peeled my eyes open and looked around. My escort was standing over the mangled bodies of the serpents, donning fresh wounds. One of them was a deep gouge running from his left clavicle to his sternum, vivid blood bubbling from within.

"I thought—" I attempted to stand and my head swam, forcing me back to the floor. Blood soaked into my shirt, and my tongue felt thick. "I thought you were dead."

His incredulous snort might have been amusing had I not been in such agony.

Despite the ambient heat of the ship, ice spread across my body and a clammy sweat broke out on my forehead. For some reason, everything seemed to be vibrating, but I realized that it was I who was shaking like a leaf. I tried again to stand and dug my fingers into the area around my wound, fingers wet and sticky with my warm blood.

I brushed tears away on my sleeve and sucked in a shuddering breath. The bite throbbed, but I forced myself to ignore it.

When I looked up, my escort was close enough to touch me, staring down. He cocked his head to the side and reached out to grab my wounded shoulder. I flinched away out of instinct, overwhelmed by the need to keep the extent of the damage from him.

What if he decided it was too bad? He would leave me. Discard me without a second thought. Maybe even put me down out of pity.

It was better he didn't know.

"It's nothing. I'll be fine. I can keep going," I rasped, throat raw.

He didn't drop the subject and panic tightened my chest. Grinding my teeth, I struggled to stay on my feet and took a step away from him. I knew from the way my shirt tugged on my skin that I was bleeding _a lot_. Tender bruises blossomed on various parts of my body, creating a stiffness in my limbs. I staggered, but I managed to stay on my feet and I puffed my chest out.

"I'm fine, really." I forced the confidence into my voice. "Let's just keep going."

His head cocked in the other direction, but the angle of his mask let me know he was staring at my wound. I turned my torso to hide, but he lashed out faster than I could react and yanked my hand away from the wound. I squeaked and wiggled in his grasp, but he was firm.

Realizing struggle was futile, I relaxed into his hold and turned my head away, jaw set. "It's fine! I'll be fine. I'll just. . .I'll bandage it up and be good as new."

My escort peeled torn fabric from the raw skin, then pushed me toward the table until the edge hit my knees and I had to sit. He turned away and made to leave. Not wanting to be left alone, I hopped down to follow. Once more he turned to face me, this time growling. I sat back down on the table and he watched me before turning away once more.

It might have been the pain muddling my mind, but I was sure he was leaving me.

"I still got some fight left in me you pompous ass." I jumped off the table and took an unsteady step toward him, licking my dry lips. "I told you I'm perfectly fine!"

He watched me for a second, studying the stern look on my face, and his shoulders shook. The action confused me, but then he started to make a strange rumbling sound that turned into a prolonged trill. I realized after a moment that he was laughing.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

At first, he didn't answer. Instead, he took a few large strides toward me and put a hand on my good shoulder, pushing me down. I resisted until he pushed hard enough it hurt and I complied with a grimace. He made the same "stay" motion from before, then walked away.

This time I didn't argue. I pressed my lips into a thin line and applied pressure to the wound, though pressing on it hurt. It didn't seem to be putting a stop to the bleeding, either, and I was so _cold._ My vision kept coming in and out of focus, but I could make out the horrible wound on my shoulder—the puckered skin with bits of fabric stuck to the edges, blood oozing and soaking the front of my shirt.

Narrowing my eyes, I brushed my fingers over the gory mark. I couldn't tell how deep it was, but moving my arm caused quite a bit of strain. At least I didn't think anything had been broken. It was right in the fleshy part of my left shoulder, below my clavicle. It seemed superficial, but I wasn't a doctor.

Certainly looked horrible, that's for sure.

Staring at the bloody mess was making me woozy so I tried to see what the alien was doing. All the while I had to concentrate to keep myself sitting upright—even that was beginning to seem impossible. He moved about the room, pulling crust and slime from the walls to examine cubbies hidden there. After a minute, he didn't find what he was looking for and growled, dissatisfied.

"What do you need?" I asked though I wasn't sure what I could do. _Sitting_ was becoming a task too arduous for me to complete.

Ignoring me, he detached something from his back and returned to me. He set the pack on the table and with a push of a button, it opened up like a mechanical tackle box. I leaned in to steal a better look and he allowed it, running his finger over the various tools. Empty syringes, strange clamps, and a lot of missing pieces.

A medpack?

Again he chittered in annoyance, then looked up at my shoulder. He pulled my hand away to look at the wound, then clicked and rattled too fast for me to follow. I was beginning to pick out patterns in his speech, but couldn't yet discern words.

With an angry jab, he closed up the med pack and tossed it aside. He pulled me off the table and motioned for me to follow. So close to him I could see why most of the pack was empty: he had staples holding together some wounds and a dried substance on others. There were so many injuries he'd had to treat after the crash and various attacks, he'd used all of it up. He'd need to find more if he wanted to treat any more wounds we received.

Sighing, I hopped off the table and my legs immediately buckled. My escort caught me under my bad arm and I sucked in a sharp breath, biting my tongue against a cry of pain. He lifted me up and held me until I found my balance, then let go of my arm. I tucked it against my side, holding my shoulder with a grip tight enough to hurt.

This time I didn't have a quip or complaint. I was too dizzy to speak, and I swayed where I stood. The alien watched me for a second, then stepped aside to let me walk from the room. I glanced at him with half-lidded eyes, then nodded and took a few steps forward.

I didn't make it four paces before I collapsed. The alien's arm was there, catching me across the chest and holding me up.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't even muster the upper body strength to stand up again. I trembled in my escort's embrace, trying to make the floor come into focus, but failing. After a second, where it became apparent to him I couldn't do it on my own, he churred and heaved me up, tossing me over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Any words that come out of my mouth were incoherent at best, and I wasn't sure what I was even trying to tell him. His steps had me bouncing painfully against his adornments and armor, but it beat dragging myself across the ground after him.

Blood dripped down my arm onto the floor as we walked, my shirt's sleeve saturated beyond its threshold. I marveled at how much blood that was—that would explain why I couldn't walk.

 _I'm going to die from blood loss,_ I realized, too out of it to muster anything but apathy.

In fact, I couldn't feel much of anything anymore.

Adrenaline had long since stopped flowing and left behind a hollow weariness in my bones. My eyelids drooped as he carried me, and it was as if my clothes were made of lead. I forced my eyes to open, aware that if I passed out I might not wake up. It was hard, though, when against my chest I could feel his torso vibrate with a low rumble. It made me think of our old cat, Alice, purring.

Couldn't imagine what an alien would be doing _purring_ , though.

Eventually, after some twists and turns, he walked into a room and shut the door behind him. In a sort of drunken-like stupor, I ran my fingertips over the door as it slid shut, drawing some sort of pleasure from the action.

My escort removed me from his shoulder, making the floor and walls blur until I was on my back on a new table, staring at the ceiling. The quick action made my head swim and for a moment I thought I was going to hurl, but then the room stabilized.

It was similar to the previous room we'd been in, except the walls were free of resin. The contents of the area were strewn about the floor just like the other room, too. I imagined the only reason the table was still upright was that it might have been bolted to the floor. The crash had toppled various displays and machines to the ground.

Lying down made it even harder to keep my eyes open. I was so exhausted and cold, tired from shaking and still in pain. Now, on top of all that, I couldn't quite catch my breath. All I wanted was to sleep, but I forced myself to stay awake.

_Don't go to sleep._

I wheezed and panted, trying to pay attention to what he was doing. The small sounds I made brought his attention to me and after examining my symptoms, he tapped away at his wrist computer. He watched me, then went back to righting one of the machines. He tried to turn it on, but it only sparked and fizzled. He snarled and shoved it back onto its side.

My eyelids drooped and I blinked hard, trying to bring my sight back into focus. In the back of my mind, the wound on my shoulder throbbed. I focused on the pain, trying to stay conscious.

And yet, the next thing I knew, the pressure of his hand on my good shoulder was dragging me from my doze. Startled, I thrashed around until he restrained me. Even then I struggled for another moment, growling until my escort snarled an admonishment.

His familiar sounds stilled my flailing and I blinked up at him with bleary vision. After some more blinking and eye-rubbing, he came into focus.

"What? No—what? I'm fine. I'm fine," I slurred, tongue dry and swollen.

He chuffed and tore my shirt to give him more room to work. I protested in a meek voice but made no move to stop him.

"What's that thing that's chasing us?" I muttered in a heavy voice.

As expected, he ignored my question and showed me a freaking horse syringe with a clear liquid in the tube. I eyed it, nervous, but nodded. He flexed his fingers and held me down before jabbing the wicked needle into the center of the wound.

I yelped and squirmed, but it was all done in a matter of seconds. Whatever he injected me with, I could feel it sledging through my veins, hot and uncomfortable. I winced and fidgeted, clutching at my chest. Soon enough, though, the pain in my shoulder ebbed. However the dizziness tripled, and I curled into the fetal position. He watched me and grumbled to himself for a moment, looking at the syringe. It was missing only an eight of its contents.

For a moment I tried to ask him what he gave me, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was absolute gibberish. After the second attempt, I stopped speaking.

He looked at me, then made a strange noise I couldn't describe—a click, a rumble, a word I couldn't discern. The world twisted and melted in front of my eyes and I clenched them shut. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, fighting back the urge to throw up.

 _That_ was a losing battle.

Somehow I had the presence of mind to turn and lean over the back of the table before retching. All I managed was a bout of dry-heaving, bile caught in the back of my throat. Whimpering, I didn't move from that position until he made me. He flipped me over onto my back with a quiet click, his ministrations gentle for once.

Whatever he'd given me made everything numb. I wanted to lift my hand to wipe my mouth, but couldn't lift it more than a few centimeters. There was a light pressure as my escort stapled the wound shut, but that was all.

When he finished, he left me to recover on the table and went about dressing his own wounds. I kept my eyes shut to keep from watching the room spiral in upon itself. My breathing came a little easier, and something high up in the ceiling was hissing. If I wasn't so sure I was safe with my escort, the sound would have freaked me out.

But he was present. If there was danger, he would know before I did.

For the time being, I could relax and focus on recuperating.

I listened to the sounds of my escort's rummaging and repressed nausea caused by the drugs. As the minutes ticked down, the muck in my bloodstream filtered out. The pain was gone, and I thought maybe my body was adjusting to the foreign medicine.

He hadn't even given me that much, and though the wound didn't hurt I could feel the beginnings of a headache pounding at my skull. At least the world had stopped spinning.

Slow and deliberate, I sat up and brushed my fingers over the strange sutures. They were big, metal, and heavy—not made for my delicate human flesh. I shouldn't complain, though. Not when they were working for their intended purpose.

It was more than I'd expected, too. I'd figured any wounds I sustained I'd have to live with until I made it out of the ship, not that he'd play nurse.

_Don't look a gift horse in the mouth._

Blinking the last of drug-induced fuzz from my vision, I looked around for my escort. I found him not far, watching me curiously. I rubbed my eyes and slid off the table. Somehow I managed to stand without collapsing and I took a steadying breath.

When I was sure I would be able to form actual words, I spoke.

"Thank you. For that." I enunciated each syllable with careful precision, squaring my shoulders and trying to meet him eye to eye. It was hard when he was three heads taller than me.

He gave me a deep nod and turned toward the door. I caught a glimpse of the giant gash on his chest from the fight—it had its own sutures and had stopped bleeding. With his back turned, I shed my bloody and torn shirt, replaced it with my jacket and zipped it up.

Heat be damned. I wasn't running around topless and my shirt was nothing more than rags. I discarded it and followed after him.

Before leaving he stood by the closed door, head turned while he listened. After a moment he slid it open and stepped outside. I poked my head around the doorway before creeping after him. Down the hallway, the creatures were still squealing and cackling. Not from the way we came, though.

I remembered the vague feeling of quakes but had thought it was my trembling. In my foggy state, I hadn't realized the aliens had passed us.

"What is it?" I asked, squinting into the darkness. "It's different from the others."

He glanced at me and I didn't shy away. I grimaced and shook my head. "Never mind. I don't know why I ask. It's not like you can answer my questions."

I'd have to limit them in a way he could answer “yes” or “no” with ease.

The alien studied me for a moment, then growled and led me down the path in silence. I tried to think of a way to form my questions so he could answer in a simple manner. It was necessary if I wanted to figure out how these things worked. If I knew that, I could maybe kill them easier.

_Fat chance._

"Is it the same type of creature?" I asked, at last, to make sure. When he answered in the positive, it left me wondering why it was different, what would have happened to make it look so unique and. . .big.

“Is it. . . um. . . .” I scrambled for the words I was looking for. “Is it higher in rank than the rest?”

_Ants and bees are different sizes depending on their role in the hive. . .maybe these things work the same way._

He had to think about it for a moment but eventually responded in the negative.

If that wasn’t the case, then why would it be different? I couldn’t imagine what was missing from the small drones compared to that huge beast rampaging.

“Does it look different because it’s older?” I ventured.

The answer I received was a no.

Frustrated, I racked my brain for anything else that made sense. Anything at all that would possibly make it so much bigger and dissimilar to the rest of them running around.

            It wasn’t its rank, and it wasn’t its age, so what else was there? There wasn’t anything I could think of, except maybe—

Hosts. The things needed a host to breed. That had been my intended fate.

"So, then, was it born from. . .something. . . not human?" I kept my voice quiet as I drilled him. I didn't know how far ahead the creature was, and I didn't want to find out.

Yes, he signaled. Something else had sowed the giant thing hunting us down.

“From here? From Earth, I mean?” came my follow-up question. The area was known for its elk population and sometimes the occasional bear, after all. There would have been plenty of other things wandering around, though I hadn’t seen any animal corpses as of yet.

However, my escort told me that that wasn’t the case.

“So. . .from another planet?”

That one was affirmative.

I tried to pay attention to the path we were taking as well as the information that I was gathering. It wouldn’t matter, though. All the halls and doors looked the same so I was bound to lose my way if I was ever separated from the big goon leading me around.

After a few minutes, I asked, “How did it get here, then?”

He didn’t respond except for a few strange sounds and I grimaced at my slip-up. _Right. Yes or no questions only._

"Was. . . ." I stumbled for the right wording, just like I was stumbling on my steps, still wobbly from loss of blood. "Did you bring it here for some reason?"

A grunt in the negative.

"On accident?"

He hissed in the affirmative.

Considering that for a moment, I next inquired, "Did it cause the ship to crash?"

His steps paused and he grumbled, then nodded and continued onward. It was enough to sate my curiosity: the weird creature was a stowaway from another planet. It was still the same species, but their host determined what they looked like, or something like that.

_Maybe they inherit traits?_

There were no parasites like that on Earth, but these things weren’t from Earth. Without knowing what alien host had birthed the big thing, I couldn’t know for sure. I didn’t see much of anything human-like in the smaller bugs running around. They walked kind of upright, but that was the only similarity at first glance.

Well, the best way to know for sure was to ask, so I did just that. When I finished the question, he answered yes.

Any other questions bouncing around in my brain were far more complicated than any yes or no question I could formulate. What sort of traits did they inherit? How did it work?

There was no way I was going to understand any biology lessons this guy gave me, and no guarantee he’d know how it worked, either.

Overall, though, I was satisfied and content to follow after him in silence, stewing in my own curiosity. I’d probably never know the answers, and I figured that was just fine.

We walked for another few minutes and I realized how empty I felt; like I was forgetting something. I racked my brain trying to figure out what it was; my shirt? No, I'd left that behind on purpose. My phone? No, that was still in my back pocket. I checked it for reception again, but there was still nothing. A few more cracks.

Another forty minutes had passed since the last time I'd checked the time.

At least if the armed forces didn't call in at some point, reinforcements would arrive. Maybe just a small team of people to figure out what was going on before they called the rest of the military. Still, it was something to look forward to.

Finally, after staring at the gauntlet on my escort's arm, trying to figure out where the blades went, I realized what I was missing.

A weapon. I had left behind my chunk of metal.

Fat lot of good it did me, anyway.

"Wait," I muttered, matching his strides to walk next to him. "Let me have a weapon. And not another piece of junk this time!"

He pretended not to hear me and turned down a fork in the road. The screeches receded further into the ship, as did the roars. Whatever was patrolling the halls, we had tricked it into wandering away from us. How long until it circled back, though, I wasn't sure.

The place was enormous. Surely we had plenty of time.

I watched him with sharp eyes, noting the way his head inclined at every noise. The grumbling that came from his chest was almost like he was muttering to himself. I didn't know what it meant, but it made him seem less alien somehow.

Maybe not quite _human_ , but at least more of a _person_ than a murderous alien of death and destruction.

After a moment he stopped without warning and I almost bumped into him but halted just in time. He turned toward the wall and pulled down a section of the crust, revealing a control pad. He dragged the claw of his index finger down it, activating the pad, then pressed some keys.

The door slid open with a hiss and I jumped.

Assuming this was another hunt for some survivors, I made no move to enter. The few times I had before, he'd stopped me. This time, however, he motioned for me to step inside and stood out of the way so I could enter first.

Initially, I thought it was some sort of trick so I stood at the threshold, staring in. He chittered in a hushed tone and shoved me inside, making me stumble.

I spluttered some choice profanities at him and straightened up, looking around the room. It was much darker than out in the hall, so it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. When they did, all the color drained from my face. I made to backpedal from the room, but he herded me inside with his bulk and closed the door behind him.

Standing outside was dangerous. If the pest aliens came by while he was in the room doing his business, I'd be a goner and could bring more than just the drones on us. He seemed able to handle them no problem, but the big thing running around had him a little jittery.

Regardless, I wasn't very keen on being _inside_ the room, either.

Lining the wall was dozens of strange, alien skulls. Some were as big as me, some were animal sized, a few were similar to the serpents running around and. . . I looked away from the familiar skulls, unwilling to acknowledge them.

It wasn't hard to figure out what they were there for: trophies.

But it wasn't the trophy skulls that had me clamoring for the exit. My grandpa had an elk head mounted on his wall, one that had almost broken a record. I wasn't a stranger to trophies.

No, it was the humanoid slumped over in the corner, impassive gray mask staring straight at me.


	9. Victim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter I'm not really sure on, any feedback is welcome. If I have to go back and tweak it some more, I'd gladly do it.

I cowered against the wall next to the door, holding my hands against my chest, until I realized the new alien wasn't awake. Though his mask was facing me, he wasn't moving from his position on the floor. He might not have even been alive. Three ragged claw marks were scored across his chest, raw and bloody and _deep_. No matter how sturdy his species seemed, there was no way he would have survived having his chest cleaved like that.

My escort strode up to the fallen humanoid, kneeled in front of him, and put a hand to the helm before lowering his head in respect. I left him to give his buddy his. . .last rites or whatever and examined the walls. I stepped up to the perfectly bleached and polished trophies, examining each one.

The lights hovering over them gave off waves of heat and I rolled up the sleeves of my jacket. I unzipped it far enough that my bra was still hidden, though I doubted this alien cared. It wasn't so much for modesty reasons anymore as it was for protection. I had no shirt, so I needed something to protect my delicate human skin.

"You. . .killed all these?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

All the skulls alone pieced some of the puzzle together. They enjoyed hunting as a pastime, so I could assume the one that caused the crash had been part of a prior hunt. It stowed away, made the ship crash, then started infecting anyone it came in contact with. Now it was going around the ship, searching for any who had escaped.

Grandpa had hunted many deer and elk, but had only one trophy head. It had been two inches away from a record buck, so I assumed all the skulls present were the same. Trophy creatures that had put up some sort of fight or were a mark of rank.

He hadn't taken any of the ones he'd killed so far as trophies. Were they unworthy, or was he not worried about keeping winners, since the ship had crashed?

I turned toward him again when I received no answer and asked again. "Did you kill these?"

His head turned toward me and he grunted that same sound, most likely the word for "no" or whatever translated closest. He instead motioned toward a single wall against the far back, drawing my attention toward it. The room was the size of one of my classrooms at school, and each wall had its own section of trophies.

Sparing a final glance over my shoulder, I walked to the wall he pointed to. There were only a few, most likely his crowning achievements. Some were the elongated skulls of the serpents—all in varying designs.

The two biggest ones were in the center. They were roughly the same size he was, with the skulls fanning out like a crowned crest. I almost assumed they were a different species, but when I moved closer I saw the second set of jaws nestled inside. There were some other creatures present, but it seemed the serpents were prominent. The two center pieces looked strong and important, but it might have been a specific host trait.

"So these are all yours," I muttered. He was standing now, replacing several dislodged trophies to the wall. Not all of them had made it through the crash. Most had been preserved well enough to keep from shattering, but others weren't so lucky, and I carefully stepped over a few shards of bone.

My escort chittered in response, but I couldn't understand. He and made his way toward me, stopping to pick up a few pieces that had fallen.

"Do you have more somewhere else, or is this it?" I faced the huge cranium and reached out to run my fingers down its high crest, but a scaled hand grabbed my wrist. I inhaled a sharp breath and stumbled when he pulled me back, barking out an admonishment.

I pulled my hand out of his grasp and recoiled from him, rubbing the joint where he'd squeezed too hard. "Ow! I'm sorry! You were touching _those_ ones, I didn't think—"

Growling, he thumped me upside the head. I grunted and shot him a sour look, but backed away. "God damn, sorry. The human's not allowed to touch. . .fucking got it," I mumbled, glowering at his back. He hadn't hit me hard, but my head was still throbbing as a side-effect of the alien painkiller.

He leaned down to pick up another skull from the floor and examined a coin-sized chip with an irritated trill and disappointed head dip.

"So," I started, "are you like, a high rank?"

It seemed like each member on the ship had their own section where they showcased their best kills. A select few had the same large serpent skull, but only my escort had two. One had three, and several dozen other skulls.

My escort set aside his now-fixed skull (when had he done that?) and gave himself a shake. I wasn't sure how to take it, so I dropped the question altogether. Maybe he was being humble.

Or maybe he was bragging in his own way.

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to his wall and looked at some of the other skulls. Up until then I could ignore the heads I wanted to, but my eyes finally came to rest on the morbid familiarity of the bones lining the bottom of his showcase.

Human skulls. In a neat little row. He didn't have many, but there they were.

Sand lined my throat, making it difficult for me to swallow the lump that formed. I turned away from the wall and indicated toward the human skulls. "You hunt humans for trophies, too?" My voice was low, and I hoped he had heard me.

At first he didn't acknowledge my question. When I was about to ask it again, he turned toward me and nodded once. My heart stuttered and I looked away from him, bent over at the waist.

They killed humans for sport.

I was human.

We were silent for several heartbeats while he let that sink in. I forced myself to remember that he wasn't trophy hunting right now. If he had been, he would have killed me when first we met.

No, probably not. I was hardly worth anything, young and weak.

But if he hunted humans, why was he helping me? He shouldn't care if I lived or died. I couldn't even claim he was using me; I hadn't done a single bait-like thing since he'd agreed I could follow him. The giant alien might have interrupted us, but he had hidden me when he could have strung me out.

Then he'd come back and saved me! Doctored my wounds, and had let me inside this room instead of making me stand outside and look tasty.

It didn't make any fucking sense. Meat shield, maybe? No, that wasn't it either.

My lips pressed into a thin line. I couldn't make a break for it. I wouldn't make it far, and I didn't see a need to. If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it already back when he first met me in the egg room. He'd all but pulled the trigger then, but stopped for some reason. There was only one hope should he turn his murderous gaze on me—convince him to give me a weapon. At least then I'd be able to defend myself for, oh say, three seconds before he cut me down.

Through the thick door, a distance roar caught our attention; deep and unlike the noises the _other_ aliens made. My escort turned his head an inch, growled, then took a few steps toward me. I retreated in the opposite direction and put my hands up as meek protection, now paranoid he was going to kill me at any second. However, he stopped my attempted flight before I could bump into his precious trophies.

His hand gripped my good shoulder and he tugged me toward the door, a deep churr of amusement at my reaction. I was still tense in his grip, but I let him drag me through the now-opened door and toward the noises.

"Is it a survivor?" I asked, trying to pull my arm free. His grip tightened and I winced. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

He made a noncommittal grunt and steered me down another hallway. The roars grew louder until the echoing crackle of the giant alien drowned them out. My escort yanked me faster down the hallway, coming close to pulling my shoulder from its socket a few times.

"Hey," I snarled, "be careful! Let me go, I can keep up on my own."

His hand retracted and I pulled my arm into my chest, cradling it there, glowering. Running was easier with my arm free and I trotted after him like a good puppy.

Each pulse of noise ricocheting against the walls made my hairs stand on end. The back of my mind prickled with a sudden realization: the sound was familiar. I'd heard it somewhere before. Though the noise was a demonic rendering, it was the exact same thing. The same echoing crackles that dolphins made.

Echolocation.

It could see everything. That was how it was tracking us. I couldn't speak for the little ones—not when they were so quiet until they were on top of you. This large monster, the Echo, hunted its prey via sound. Like a bat.

A trait from its host, no doubt.

"Give me a weapon. I can help," I insisted between breaths.

He ignored me and kept running, growling to himself. The way he growled, his hunting posture and strange sense of loyalty to finding survivors. . . . He was like a wolf, searching for his pack. A lone wolf, trying to survive.

Wolf.

I opened my mouth to make the demand again, but a fierce cry from above cut me off. I stopped short and turned my head in time to see one of the facehuggers leap off the ceiling toward me.

Eyes wide, I leaned back a ways and lifted my hands to guard my face. Since when did these assholes wander around _on their own_? I'd assumed they stayed put until a drone brought them a host, but apparently fucking not! Apparently they went _looking_ for hosts if there weren't any presented.

Fucking perfect.

A split second before impact, my escort—Wolf—shoved me forward. I lost my balance and tumbled to the ground, but somehow managed to turn the landing into a roll. I scrambled to my feet, hands up and ready to defend myself. My stance was wide and ready, concern knotting my chest. Would he be alright?

The facehugger had landed on his mask and was skittered for purchase, its tail lashing. I didn't have time for relief, though. It let out a surprised and confused squeal, unable to find an orifice to invade, then leaped off Wolf. Hitting the ground running, it came right for me.

It didn't make it far before Wolf stabbed it with his spear, pinning it to the spot. The thing scrabbled around, squeaking and hissing, then finally fell still.

I felt as if my heart was going to explode straight out of my chest. I remained in my half-crouched position, staring at the dead facehugger. If Wolf hadn't been so vigilant, or a millisecond too slow, I would have gotten a mouthful of _that_.

Would he have been able to get it off me? Or would he have cut his losses and killed me?

None of that mattered. It didn't happen. I didn't need to dwell on it.

Knees shaking, I stood straighter and forced my arms to my sides. They ached to hold me, to keep me together, but I had to prove to myself that I could do it on my own. I didn't need comfort from anyone. I had a strong mind. I _had_ to have a strong mind.

"Now can I have a weapon?" I asked, voice unsteady. The Echo had fallen silent ahead of us, as had the potential survivor. Either we had been too late or the other humanoid had chased it off.

Oh how I wanted it to believe the latter, but my heart said otherwise.

Wolf's low rumble worried me, and I waited for him to decide. I watched him as he considered me, then turned to lead me onward. I repressed a scream of rage and stomped after him, my hands balled to fists at my side.

Were he a few inches smaller and a little less muscular, I might have punched him.

Many times.

Would it really be such a bad thing, giving me a weapon? I didn't know what I could do to prove he could trust me with one. The last thing I wanted to do was kill him, and I was certain I couldn't even if I _did_ want to.

The Echo was long gone by the time we reached the site of battle. We were met with complete disarray; the room was the biggest I'd been in so far, larger than our school's gym room by a margin. Broken controls and consoles were everywhere, sparking and crackling. Lights blinked in various places, and the walls were actually windows, covered in dirt. Inches, maybe feet of rock and rubble. It had to have been where they did the driving—the bridge?

Among the broken machines were bodies. More than half a dozen of them, all humanoids like Wolf, tossed about like ragdolls or crushed beneath heavy machinery. Any that had survived direct impact into the side of the mountain wouldn't have lived through the Echo's rampage.

Especially not since Wolf had to save me.

If I hadn't been with him, he might have made it. He might have been able to fight alongside the survivor. I put a hand to my mouth and took a step back, guilt-ridden.

"I—I'm sorry," I muttered, shaking my head.

We weren't alone in the room. Several serpents remained, picking their way over the walls and bodies. When they noticed us, they screeched in greeting. Wolf wasn't in the mood for their bullshit, and for the first time since we'd first met, those three red target dots took aim.

His cannon fired with a muffled sound, one for each serpent. All of them burst apart in a spray of acid blood, quickly filling the room with the stench of burning flesh and metal.

In the end, though, he didn't have enough shots to cover all of them, and at least one slipped out unharmed. With it spent, he removed it from the mount on his shoulder, discarded it, and made his way toward the carnage wrought by the Echo. I almost followed him, but felt he needed to deal with the death of his comrades alone.

And now I knew why he hadn't shot me in that room. He hadn't seen the need to waste a perfectly good round of ammo on some pitiful human girl. Not that I was complaining.

Not all of the humanoids on the bridge were wearing masks. I couldn't make out their faces from where I was standing, but what I could make out indicated that though their physiology was similar to that of a human, their heads were definitely not. Sloping forehead, horn-like ridges, large brow. It resembled their masks somewhat.

Movement near the bow—maybe, I hadn't had time to brush up on my ship terminology before being _kidnapped by space monsters_ —caught our attention. Wolf slid into a defensive posture, but then relaxed and jogged over to the half-alive humanoid.

First I thought about joining him to see if I could help, but I was afraid I'd only upset both of them. Still, I felt so confused and helpless.

I shimmied along the wall until I was clear of the doorway. My first instinct was to search for more enemies, though Wolf seemed unconcerned. There was a second way out of the bridge: the route the Echo had taken to search for more victims. I watched it, hoping it didn't return. If I wasn't doing anything, I might as well play lookout while he tried to save his friend.

 _My fault_. He'd stopped to save me. If I wasn't with him. . .or maybe I'd kept him alive. Though that was some wishful thinking. I'd just condemned his friends. The guilt gnawed at my insides when I thought about the sacrifice.

Somehow I had to prove to him that I was worth it.

Why hadn't the Echo dragged any victims off for hosts? It had murdered them instead, like it wasn't trying to bring back more hosts for the parasites.

Like it was out for blood.

Wolf spent some time with the last living humanoid, but he didn't have the means to keep him alive. After a while he put his hand over his mask and bowed his head before standing to pick through the others. I remained where I was, content to leave this moment of mourning to him. If his kind mourned their dead. It wasn't like I would know how to offer him comfort if he needed it. It reminded me that my friends were in the ship somewhere, waiting for me.

Two egg chambers had turned up nothing, though. The ship was gigantic, so I didn't know what hope I had of finding them. We were at the front of the ship now, so I figured the chamber I'd been found had been in the middle, so now we'd have to double back the way we'd come if we wanted to keep up the search.

He finished his sweep of the bridge and came back with a new shoulder-mounted cannon and holding a wicked blade. I balked at his approach, watching his posture to see if he'd try to use it on me, ready to turn tail and flee. As he neared, he twisted the grip and held it out to me hilt-first. His shoulders shook with that amused rumbling in his chest; my wariness was a great source of amusement for him. I stared at the weapon for a moment, my face pale.

I was more likely to hurt myself with it than I was anything else.

But, it was what I'd wanted. It was good that it was dangerous-looking. Easy peasy: point the business end of the sword at the enemies.

The blade had a sharp, serrated edge that curved toward the tip. Its grip was the bone fragment of some alien creature, wrapped in a leather-like material. He chittered an encouragement and held it closer to me. I swallowed hard and took it by the hilt, surprised at how light it actually was. I'd overcompensated for the weight, thinking it'd be heavy, but it was the same as my dad's baseball bats.

"Th-thank you," I said, surprised he handed it over without much fuss.

He'd put it off for so long, maybe because he hadn't had one to spare. Which body had he taken it off? Would they be okay with a human using it? Though I supposed since they were dead it didn't matter. I gave it a few practice swings and he made an irritated sound, then pushed me forward, skirting around the edge of the bridge toward the other exit.

"Are we going after that thing?" I asked.

His low hiss told me yes.

"Is it killing for food?" I glanced over my shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of his dead comrades, but he moved into my view before pushing me down the hall. I figured the answer would be a no, since the bodies seemed to be intact. For the most part.

I grunted and shoved him back when he was too rough with me, earning a swift palm-heel-strike to my shoulder blade.

"Ow, hey!"

Now I was in more of a bad mood than I had been, but I still had questions. "Is it killing because you guys are a threat?"

Again he hissed an affirmative.

We forged onward, following after the faint sounds of the Echo. We were always so far behind it, and Wolf pressed us faster and faster until we were a pace slower than sprinting. I didn't know if we'd be able to kill the Echo with just the two of us, but Wolf seemed confident—or maybe foolhardy, eager to kill the thing that was running around murdering his friends. But if he and the others hunted nests full of these things, that meant he could kill at least one on his own, right?

There was something wrong, though—besides how awkward it was to run in the boots I was wearing. It started as a tickle in the back of my throat, the occasional cough. Then, as we moved through the other side of the ship back toward the center, it became a tightness in my chest that made running even more difficult.

"Wait. Wait I can't. . . . I can't breathe," I gasped, reaching out with my free hand toward his back. I had been falling behind at a steady pace, my chest tight and searing. It wasn't from sprinting, that I knew. Not after years and years of conditioning.

He stopped, rattling in displeasure, but came back for me nonetheless.

_You're slowing him down._

With my hands atop my head to open my airways, I drew in breath after breath, ignoring the nagging voice in my head. Instead of refreshing oxygen, I breathed in a lungful of burning air. I wheezed with surprise and spluttered into a coughing fit, doubling over. My chest felt as if it was full of fire, and tears welled at the corners of my eyes. I should have been fine, I should have been able to run much longer but—

The air, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't run.

Wolf watched me for a second, then opened up his wrist com and punched in a command. He clapped me over the back and I stumbled to keep from falling from on my face.

Vents on the ceiling hissed and cool air filtered into the hallway. I took several deep breaths until the stitch in my side ebbed and I could finally fill my lungs. The fire in my chest guttered but didn't extinguish. I'd been able to ignore it before, though. It had been a minor convenience up until now, but maybe the air was more pure, the hull not as compromised as it had been.

Maybe it was just because I hadn't been running before, hadn't been breathing as hard.

"I'm. . .I'm okay," I insisted. I straightened and swallowed the saliva that had pooled in my mouth. "I can. . .usually run longer than that but. . . . I couldn't breathe. Your air?"

With a great sigh, he nodded.

"Will you be okay with the air I can breathe?" I asked, uncertain why it concerned me.

He tapped his mask and turned his head to show the wires attached to it. I made an "o" shape with my mouth and nodded: his mask would filter the air for him. _I_ had no such device. And neither did my friends. Were they suffocating somewhere, locked in a room?

But I couldn't think about that. I had to believe that I'd be able to find them at some point, and they'd be okay. To distract myself while I recovered, I asked him more questions.

"Is that big one laying the eggs?"

No, he grunted. Before I could ask, he brought up his computer again and swiped another command. A second later, he was projecting a hologram for me. I was hit with a brief wave of heat as the cross-section of one of the serpents materialized.

It was not unlike the others wandering around all over the place. The picture made it hard to judge size, but it appeared longer, taller. This alien was more insect-like than the others with muscular back legs and more than one set of arms. Instead of the smooth, elongated heads of the others, it sported a huge crest. Like a triceratops.

After a moment I realized I'd seen it somewhere before.

"This. . . ," I tried to gather my thoughts before continuing. "This is the thing you have on the wall back in the room?"

Wolf nodded and pressed another button and a new hologram flickered to life. It was of the same giant beast, but instead it was hunched over as if in sleep; behind it a huge sack spat out eggs one at a time. The hologram shimmered and revealed a large hologram of the ova, then he turned it off.

If the egg sack was any indication, this creature was so much bigger than the serpents. At least that explained where all the eggs were coming from. They didn't reproduce or lay eggs themselves, but relied on that alien. They were the warriors, and this thing was their queen. Termites, ants, bees. . . . They all did the same thing.

My eyes widened and I echoed my thoughts to Wolf. "A queen? Is this a giant hive?" I coughed once, dispelling the last of the strange air I'd been breathing earlier. I took a few more deep breaths of the cool, refreshing oxygen-rich breeze and relief flowed through me.

Nodding, he let his fist fall and the hologram disappeared.

A queen. He and some others had their skulls as the centerpiece to their showcases. The queen would be the toughest and biggest of the entire hive, a last line of defense. Killing one of those wouldn't be an easy feat. . . . So _they_ were the sign of rank and prestige.

Wolf had two of them and I wondered what rank that made him.

But if the queen laid the eggs, then how did the Echo start the gravy train? If it didn't lay eggs, then it must have found some way to repopulate. I couldn't fathom how, and yes or no questions wasn't going to suffice. It would just have to be a mystery.

His gaze didn't leave me for a moment, and then he motioned for me to keep going.

"Yes, sorry. I'm good now, thank you." I mocked a salute and followed him onward. The Echo had pulled ahead of us again, and its bellowing wail vibrated the air. Another, similar cry met that one, joined by the screeches of the drones.

They were communicating, but I couldn't fathom what about.

Listening carefully, I tried to figure out where they were and how far. I wasn't mentally prepared to fight something so huge; I'd need time to find my center.

The weapon he'd given me was foreign and daunting, and I didn't know how to use it right. The grip was even a bit uncomfortable and irregular-shaped, but my hand was starting to acclimate to it. The question still remained about whether or not I'd be able to kill anything with it.

But how hard could it be? Swing and slice and there you go. Easy. If I could swing a bat, I could swing a sword. It wasn't like I'd be jousting with some seasoned fencer. They'd be mindless beasts.

Ripe for the chopping.

As I tried to pick up the noises of the monster, there was something else on the draft, wafting through the halls toward us. A familiar sound, full of fear. . . . A sound that tightened my chest and threatened to bring tears to my eyes.

I'd heard it in the woods, and it echoed in the recesses of my mind still. A sound that I'd likely hear when all this was over, if I lived.

One that would haunt me forever.

Wolf's faltering steps told me he recognized the sound, too. He hadn't quite stopped yet, but was slowing down in front of me.

I stopped moving, head down and ears straining.

I stopped breathing, trying to limit other idle sounds.

On baited breath I waited. Wolf slowed to a stop ahead of me but I was only vaguely aware of him and his ambient clicking. When I heard it again, my chest swelled and I dared to inhale. The sound meant so many bad things, but at that moment, it also meant hope. Wolf was looking at me, head tilted, but I paid him no mind.

A human scream.

Female.

Before I could overthink it, my legs were carrying me forward. I shot past Wolf and he trilled after me, but I ignored him. My body moved of its own accord, driven forward by the familiarity of the cry. By all the things it promised and all the things it threatened.

I came to a stop at an intersecting hallway, head turned to listen. The Echo was down one way and the human was screaming in an another.

Easy choice.

Wolf growled near me, but I was off and running again. Adrenaline had gifted me a second wind.

Someone was alive, and as I made my way closer to the source of the screams for help, I came to realize that it was more than just a scream, more than a cry for help.

That voice, calling for someone. . . . I knew it. I knew it so well it _hurt_.

It tugged at my heart, planting seeds of both hope and panic in my brain. I ignored the vestiges of breathlessness and pushed myself into a full sprint, desperate to reach the voice and the second chance of life it meant for them.

And my _own_ second chance.

To make things right, to make up for what I'd done in the woods. I just had to _hurry_.

_Jess! Jess I'm coming!_


	10. Asleep or Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY, NOT SORRY

I should have come for her right away. It should have been the most important thing in my mind. Anderson had told me to worry only about myself, but how was that right? She was my best friend! I never should have listened to him. I should have listened to my gut.

She was alive. I could still save her. Maybe all of them, even. I could make everything right again. If I saved them now, they would forgive me. I could forgive myself.

All I had to do was make it to whatever room she was in—they were in.

If she was there, the others had to be, right?

_Right turn—straight ahead—follow the screaming._

My breath came in short gasps and I fought hard to run as fast as I could. Wolf rumbled behind me, growling warnings and commands, but I ignored him. There was a small window of opportunity, and I wasn't going to let him stop me.

I wasn't going to be too late. I wasn't going to let him hold me up.

_Just like you held him up._

The urge to call out to them was strong. The words festered in the back of my throat, but I bit them back. If I wanted them to survive, I had to be silent. I couldn't alert the enemies that I was coming. They were accustomed to the desperate cries of the captured and would ignore them.

What they would be suspicious of was someone calling back, someone coming to help.

As much as I wanted to, I had to wait until I was close.

Finally I made it. I slid on some still-wet slime and hit the ground on my hands in a push-up form. The room was a couple yards away and I could hear more than one voice besides Jess'. Wolf chittered quietly behind me, disgruntled and miffed, but I hopped up and headed toward the door.

_There they are! I found them!_

"Someone, anyone!"

"No one's coming, Jess." If my eyes could open any wider, they would have. Michelle.

A third, unfamiliar voice cut in. "I can't think if you keep screaming! Just remain calm. I'll figure something out."

It didn't matter that they were with someone new. They were all there. Or at least my two best friends. They were there. I scrambled into the egg room where they were being held, using the wall to keep myself up. My legs were weak with relief and fatigue. I darted my gaze frantically around the room, my chest heaving to pull in oxygen.

Then I spotted them, them all pinned against the far wall. Several shapes, even. I exhaled a plaintive whine and stumbled toward them.

"Jess? Michelle?" I called intoto the darkness, keeping my voice low enough to be heard only by them. The only thing that could ruin the moment was the arrival of unwanted drones coming to investigate strange voices.

Their heads lifted and looked over to me. At first they were wild and frightened, but when they realized who it was, they relaxed. The atmosphere electrified with excitement; theirs and mine.

"Where the hell did you come from?" the unfamiliar voice demanded.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"Nichole! Nichole it's you! Of fuck, please, oh god, you have to get us down!" Michelle pleaded.

"You're alive! Oh Nichole I was so worried!" Jess wailed.

Worried. They were worried. My heart soared and I fumbled through the darkness, taking great care to ignore the eggs in the room. I didn't want to know if they were empty or not. I didn't want to know what the chances were.

Anything could be a trick of the light, my mind trying to make me believe something that wasn't. I didn't want it to fabricate my worst nightmares and drain the hope I clung to so desperately.

They didn't hate me. They were glad to see me, even after I'd left them.

What if they hated me later?

Whatever, I could handle that. I could handle them hating me if it meant they were alive _now_. I'd have a lifetime to make it up to them so long as they survived.

Jess strained against the crust pinning her to the wall as I approached. I glanced around and took stock of all the people in the room. Michelle, Jake, Victor, Tyler, a cop, and a few other classmates I couldn't recall. All those who were picked off by the aliens. None of the ones that had been with me when I was captured where there.

Had they made it out? Had I been the last? Or were they still in the ship somewhere, scared and alone—or dead?

"Are you alright?" I asked, using my free hand to tug at the crust with violent jerks.

She shook her head. Her face shone with fresh tears leaving dirty streaks under her eyes, like she'd been crying for a while. "No! No I'm not! Please you gotta get me down, we have to leave!"

"How did you get out?" Michelle asked. Next to her, Jake was beginning to stir.

"It's a long story," I sighed, glancing up.

Michelle leaned forward eagerly. "But you _can_ get us out?"

I nodded and pulled back to raise the weapon Wolf had loaned me. "I will but you guys have to be _quiet_ , ok? You think you can do that? If those things come to see what's going on and find me here it'll be bad."

Jess nodded and pursed her lips shut. Michelle nodded but didn't remain quiet long. She asked, "Where'd you get that?"

"Nichole? Jess?" Jake interrupted. I switched my attention to him and the others on the wall. There was maybe a total of four people actually awake—Tyler and Victor were not among them.

" _Shh_! You guys have to be _quiet_ , okay? I'll get you all down but you have to be _quiet_!" I took a few quick steps across the room, examining everyone. I hadn't even gotten two chops into freeing Jess yet. Tyler and Victor were already dead with gaping holes, as were most of the others. I wouldn't be able to save them all.

"Hey, kid, how'd you get out?" the police officer demanded again. I barely heard him.

Tears threatened to spill and I took a few deep breaths and pushed them away. I had to focus on Jess and Michelle and the ones that were alive. I could help them out, and everything would be fine. Jess and Michelle were priority. I had to make it up to them.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"Kid!"

I sniffed and whirled around. "A soldier helped me escape! I've been wandering around for ages and I finally found you guys. Now please, I can get you all down but _just shut up_!" I hissed, watching the doorway for a few seconds. There was no screeching, no sounds of drones on their way.

There was also no Wolf. I doubted that I'd been able to run faster than him, so either he was waiting outside or was invisible and watching nearby.

As Simmons had before, I carefully picked over the people's corpses, careful not to touch any gore and trying my hardest to ignore the feeling of bile rising in my throat. They wouldn't have dog tags, so I grabbed wallets and phones or jewelry and shoved them in all my pockets.

Jake was silent for a moment but then asked in a whisper, "They're all dead, aren't they?"

Brushing away stray tears, and turning away from the bodies, I nodded. "Yeah."

Jess choked out a sob and Michelle fought back her own tears. Jake stared at the ground below him, his eyes wide and lips parted. I closed mine and took a deep breath.

"But you guys are okay," I said.

"Alright so that's how you got out." I turned to look at the strung-up cop. He jerked his head toward the weapon I was still holding. I'd meant to use it to free them quicker, but they'd distracted me with their questions. "Where did you get that thing?"

Jess muffled a scream and Michelle wailed out a warning that made me wince. I turned, expecting to see more of the drones bearing down on us and lifted my blade higher, ready to fight. Instead of black drones, Wolf finished melting into view with an electric sizzle. He grabbed me by the good shoulder and pulled me back away from my friends.

"Hey! Stop it!" I protested, pushing against him. I faced them all and lifted my free hand. "Shut up! _Shut up, shh_! It's fine, he's a friend! Quiet, quiet! _Please_!"

Wolf pushed against my chest, lifting a finger to tell me to wait. I knew what he was going to do but I had work to finish. I wasn't going to wait this time. I shook my head and stared him down with my best belligerent glare. "No! No I'm getting them down! They're fine!"

 _Everything is going to be okay_.

He paused and rotated a few inches to look at me, his head cocked to the side. The four clamored behind us, terrified by his presence.

"What is that thing? Kid, get away from it, just get out of here," the cop insisted.

"Nichole what the fuck?"

"Oh my god is that another _alien_?"

"Did you say it's a _friend_?"

My anger peaked and I turned on them, snarling through clenched teeth. " _Shut up_! You have to be fucking _quiet!_ How many times do I have to _tell you_? I'll get you all down, but shut the _fuck_ up for _three minutes_! Don't worry about him, okay? He's here to help."

The four of them looked bewildered, but they all fell silent.

I sighed and straightened my jacket, then brushed a stray lock of hair out of my eyes. "Kind of, anyway," I muttered.

"Kind of?" Jake echoed. His voice was thick, breathless, and Anderson popped into my head.

Teeth grinding and head pounding, I inhaled a few times. There was nothing wrong. I was there to help, and I was going to make everything better.

We would all escape together, and this time I wouldn't leave them behind to rot.

Wolf made a quiet growl and approached me. I squared my shoulders and met his gaze evenly. I should let him do what he wanted to do, but I couldn't bring myself to allow it.

"I'm getting them down." I forced every ounce of confidence I had into the words.

He shifted his weight, then took a step away. Clicking in a resigned tone, he turned to the side before making a sweeping gesture with his hand.

I relaxed and smiled in relief. "Thank you."

"Nichole, what is that?" Jess whispered as I went to work with hacking at the crust with my blade. I was careful to keep a wide berth around her body to avoid cutting her. It was hard work, a lot of prying and chopping.

"An alien. He's been helping me and is good at killing the black things," I muttered, helping Jess to her feet before moving to Michelle's side.

"Why is it helping you?" the officer asked, eyes narrowed.

Ignoring him for the moment, Jess and I worked to free Michelle. After making some progress I said, "Fuck if I know, but I'd be dead four times over if he hadn't been around."

Though I said he was there to help, Wolf didn't lift a hand to assist in freeing them.

Whatever, he could sit there and sulk for all I cared.

Michelle came free from her prison and I helped her stand. She groaned and shook slime from her hands, then pulled long strands of it from her hair. "Disgusting. . . ."

It wasn't long before everyone alive was freed from their confines. They were sticky and shaken, but they were out. I saved the officer for last, aware that he would use his rank to take control of the situation, even though he didn't know a god damn thing about what was happening.

To my surprise, he didn't make it a big event. "Alright kid, do you know a way off this ship? We have to move."

"No, but he might. Let me ask."

"Nichole, there were these things. I think—"

I cut Jake off before he could finish that thought. He looked disgruntled, but I couldn't put up with it right then. "No time, we have to get you guys out of here. There's a much bigger alien running around on the ship so we gotta hurry."

_Everything is going to be okay._

Hoping I hadn't pissed him off too bad, I took a tentative step toward Wolf. "Can you lead us off the ship? Just get us safely out—them. Even just them. I'll stay and I'll be whatever you need me to be, I promise. Just—please, please help me get them out of here!" I pleaded.

They wouldn't make it out if he didn't help.

He regarded me for a moment, then turned his gaze toward the huddled group. Wolf lifted his hand to press a few buttons on his wrist computer, then glanced back at me. I watched him for a second until he made a quiet, gentle trill. His head shook and he pointed at them, and then at the eggs.

"They're _fine_!" I insisted.

_Simmons. Anderson._

"They'll be okay, we just need to get them off the ship and they'll be okay! Please, do this for me and I'll do whatever you want."

Wolf stared at me a moment longer, then uttered a sharp sound. Shoulders squared, he headed for the exit. I watched him until he stopped at the portal, then turned and motioned for us to come. My heart soared and I turned toward my friends. "C'mon! He'll get us off this ship!"

"How do you know it's not a trick?" the police officer demanded. He had his hand on his gun and was staring at Wolf. "It's an alien. Why the hell would it help us?"

"Yeah, what if it's a trap?" Jake said.

"Nichole what did you mean you'll do whatever it wants?" Jess asked in a tiny voice.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. Every moment we spent trying to argue was another moment the drones could use to close in on us. "We don't have _time_ for this. You have to trust me, okay? He hasn't done anything to hurt me and could have killed me at any time. Please can we go?"

None of them were convinced. Michelle coughed and loosened her jacket, and the others fidgeted. I looked between them all and shook my head.

_They don't trust me. I left them._

I'd have to _make_ them trust me.

"Fine! You can stay here and try to get out on your own, or you can follow me and him to safety, but Jess and I are going!" I reached for Jess' hand and dragged her toward the door. She put up a bit of resistance, then jogged after me.

Jake glanced around, his expression uneasy. "Nichole I really don't think—"

"Well?" I interrupted him, turning to face them. Jess trembled next to me. "This is your last chance. We're leaving."

With that, I finished dragging Jess to Wolf and stood just outside the room. The eggs inside rustled and shifted, and soon enough Jake and Michelle skirted around Wolf, cowering before him. The officer emerged shortly after, keeping his arm up as if to protect them.

"Alright, stay close," the officer said. "Nichole—that's your name?—get over here."

He meant well, but I knew I was safer next to Wolf than I was him. "I told you it's fine," I said, keeping a death grip on Jess' hand.

Still, he insinuated himself between us and our escort. I grunted a protest, but was forced away from Wolf all the same. At least he wasn't trying to take the sword from me. His hand never left his gun, and Wolf pretended not to care.

*:･ﾟ✧

I was walking on air as we jogged through the winding hallways of the massive ship. Jess and Michelle and her boyfriend were all okay. The cop, too, and I guess that was a good thing. Wolf was on board and leading us out of danger. Even if something were to happen to me, at least I knew my friends were going to make it out.

"C'mon, stay close," I murmured. They kept falling back, trying to avoid being close to Wolf as he navigated the bowels of his ship.

No one but I was comfortable remaining within arm's-reach of him.

I couldn't blame them. He was an intimidating specimen to be sure.

Wolf continued to glance back at me and my friends every few minutes. He always rumbled and rattled quiet gibberish at me, but I couldn't understand. Or maybe I didn't want to understand. There was nothing to talk about, anyway.

Jess' hand had slipped from mine around five or six minutes after we'd left their prison room. I hadn't wanted to make her more uncomfortable than she already was, so I let her fall back.

Once they realized how helpful Wolf could be, I knew they wouldn't be so scared of him.

Though if I was being honest with myself, _I_ was still a little scared of him. He'd survived his ship crashing, was the largest man (alien man) that I'd ever met in person, and was armed to teeth with acid-proof weapons. He was dangerous—but for now he was on our side.

And for now he was humoring my silly human request to get my friends safe. I wasn't sure why, but I wasn't going to question it. Not when it was all I wanted.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"Nichole," Michelle called, jogging up to match strides with me despite how close it brought her to Wolf. She tapped me on my shoulder and I jerked around. She indicated back and said, "It's Jess."

My steps faltered and I turned to see Jess falling even further behind, clutching her chest. I knew she had less stamina than most of my friends, but my heart still started to beat harder against my rib cage. Michelle stifled a wheeze next to me and I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Keep going I'll be back," I said to Wolf.

Even as I said it, he came to a halt as I went to Jess. The police officer was close to her, and Jake pulled Michelle to him, whispering something in her ear.

I did my best to ignore them all and hurried to Jess's side.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, placing tentative hands on her shoulders and squeezing encouragement.

She looked up at me, face contorted in pain, and caught her breath before responding. I heard a screech somewhere in the distance and jumped. My eyes darted to Wolf, but he made no move to defend or attack. If he wasn't worried about the noise, then I wasn't either. Next to us, the police officer grunted and pulled on his collar.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"I think—I think I'm okay. My chest just. . .hurts a little bit is all. I can keep going, though. I'm not used to running so much," she forced a smile on her face before wincing. Her shoulders hunched inward and she bent over to heave in a breath.

The police officer looked up from Jess to me. He continued to rub at his chest, then cleared his throat. "We should rest. We're all a little ragged right now."

I shook my head and ignored Jake as he muttered to a silent and crying Michelle. "No, we can't. We have to keep going. I'm sure the exit isn't too much farther."

Wolf was still standing in the same spot, staring directly at me, head tilted.

"Well, are we close to leaving?" I asked him.

He shook his head and I watched him for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant. Michelle trembled in Jake's arms, who was white as a sheet and stone-faced.

Another screech reached us—the Echo, sending its pulses down the corridors in search of whatever. My eyes widened and I gaped at Wolf, disbelieving. He'd been following the Echo's trail the entire time, hunting it down and dragging us along for the ride.

But why? He'd said. . .he'd said he would help my friends escape. I shook my head and turned back to them, breathing heavy I fought back tears. I'd be mad at him later.

_Everything is going to be okay._

Jess whimpered and I moved around her side, trying to make her straighten up. She was doubled over, both hands holding her chest and her jacket open. I set my arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight, whispering, "Jess? Jess stand up and. . .and put your hands on. . . ."

She wheezed violently and fell to her knees. I crouched in front of her, rubbing her back with gentle strokes. My heart pounded against my chest and my mind fought to rationalize. We'd been running. She wasn't in good shape, so she wasn't used to all the exercise and stress. We were all frantic and panicking—it was a stress cough.

It had to be a stress cough.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"Jess?" My voice was small.

Her shoulders quaked and everyone else crowded around, asking if she was okay. One of them coughed several times, but I couldn't tell who it was.

"It—it hurts," Jess whimpered, gasping for breath.

Someone squeaked in surprise and I felt a familiar weight on my shoulder—Wolf's hand. He chittered with urgency and I shrugged him off, lifting a hand and waving it around my head to try to ward him away. "Just give her some space! Just back up!"

Jake stepped up next to me, his face grim. "Nichole, I was trying to tell you—"

" _Shut up_!"

He glowered and made to take a step toward me, but Michelle clutched him tight. So he remained by her side and said, "No! Nichole, there were these things, okay? These little spider things! Everywhere in the room! And the people who had died in there. . . . I saw Victor, his chest—"

Jess cried out, cutting him off, and I turned toward her with wide eyes. "That thing. . .the spider thing. . . . It was on me and. . .Nichole is that going to happen to me?"

My heart plummeted to the bottom of my feet.

_Everything is going to be okay._

"No—no you're fine. I didn't see any spider thing, Jess. Just take deep breaths. Okay? Just breathe deep and stand up and put your hands on your head—it'll open your airways better and—"

Michelle choked out a sob somewhere to my right. "Nichole. . . ."

A soul-shattering crack rent through the small corridor, punctuated by Jess' cry of pain. Then, everything else fell silent.

"Jess?" I whispered, sitting back, looking at her from arm's length. Jess crumpled to the floor and writhed, her eyes closed tight and mouth open in silent wails. Tears started to slide down my cheeks. "Jess?"

_Everything is going to be okay._

"Oh my god," Michelle sobbed.

Jake pulled Michelle away from the scene and out of my line of sight. One of them—the cop, Wolf, whoever—tugged on my arm, but I was like an anchor, rooted to the spot on the ground.

Jess bucked and heaved, one of her hands snatched out to grab my wrist. I dropped my weapon to clutch her hand with both of mine, mouth working but unable to create sound. At last I managed to let out one more meek word.

"Jessica?"

She answered with a scream that tore my heart asunder and rent my soul in half. Her ribcage split with the same sound as splintering glass and her shirt tore. Wet droplets splattered my face and neck, but I didn't have the strength to flinch.

Her body bucked with one last spasm. Eyes wide, mouth agape, she tried to pull in one last, rattling breath before she fell still.

From the silence came a high-pitched lament that reverberated through the hall.

With horror, I realized it was coming from me.

 _Everything is_ not _going to be okay._

Michelle screamed incoherent words, drowning out my own sounds of anguish. She continued to scream and shuffled around in my peripherals. Jake fought to keep her from bolting from the scene like a frightened mare, but dragged her further away as she collapsed to her knees, sick.

"Jake! Jake what the fuck oh my god no! Jess!" she said, voice shrill.

"I don't know, I don't know! Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. . . ."

The cop hooked his arm around my waist and started tugging me away. I turned to deadweight in his embrace and dug my heels in, grunting and whining like a petulant toddler, gathering Jess in my arms. Her name left my tongue over and over.

Then everything hazed over and I stopped fighting him. It was like I was viewing the world from behind a sheet of glass, noises muffled and disjointed. The world faded away until it was only me and Jess' body, half pulled into my lap as if I could bring her back. I froze as a tiny, gray head peered from the hole it had created.

It turned to looked at everyone, sightless head falling on me last, and then it slithered out to make a break for it.

A guttural snarl ripped from my throat. I wrenched myself free of the officer and lunged. The blade Wolf had given me was in my hand in an instant and I reached over Jess' body. With a violent moention lashed out at the chestburster. The blade came down swift and hard, cleaving the thing in two like butter. I left the blade there, stuck part in the floor, and stumbled blindly to my feet.

My ears rang. Rage guttered in my chest and the police officer pulled me away again.

The world crashed on top of me in an avalanche of sensations. Michelle was screaming, Jake was shouting, and the cop pushed me back before removing his jacket and covering Jess.

I looked down at the redness on my palms, mouth open in a strangled cry. My face and neck were wet from tears and maybe a little bit of spittle, specks of warm blood mixing with it. I stumbled back before bumping into something solid as a wall; a wall that chittered.

Wolf put his hand on my shoulder and moved me behind him. I still staggered back, unable to maintain my balance, and fell to my knees. Between each gasp for breath, I fought to control the sobs that wracked my frame.

_How could this have gone so wrong?_

"There was one on me, too!" Michelle wailed.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this, it wasn't supposed to. . . ._

"Me, too," Jake muttered. He was despondent, unable to look away from the creature that had killed Jess. The officer had his hand on his head as he paced.

Michelle became hysteric. "Don't let that happen to me! I can't have that! I can't go through that! Please! Please you gotta do something!" I didn't know who she was talking to, but when I looked up, she was staring at me with horror. "Did you know about this, Nichole?"

I swallowed hard and managed a tiny little shake of my head. My Jaw worked up and down, but no sounds came out.

How could I admit to it?

How could I tell them that I knew exactly what happened to those on the ship?

That it was my fault Jess suffered?

My fault they would all suffer.

Eyes bulging, Michelle grabbed Jake by one hand and dug her fingers into her chest with the other. "Jake! Jake please I can't go through that, please I can't! What do we do? I don't want to die like that!" Her hysterics were making her cough more.

He pulled her tight and she blubbered into his chest, shoulders heaving with each sob. I simpered behind Wolf, hands up by my head and chest constricting with each inhale. My entire body shuddered in convulsions and I sucked in air through my mouth. Suppressing the screams was becoming harder and harder.

Jake was speaking, but I couldn't hear. I tuned them out and stared between them, eyes locked on the jacket concealing Jess.

 _This isn't what I wanted_ —I pushed on the sides of my head with my hands, eyes wide and bottom lip quivering— _I was going to make it better—_ I drew in a quaking breath and wrapped my arms around myself. I shook my head and clenched my eyes shut— _I did this_ —all I'd wanted was to make things better, to make it up to them.

Not make it worse.

They were having a conversation without me. I caught bits and pieces of it as I tried to process what was going on, where I'd gone wrong. Michelle was beside herself, and Jake was doing his best to console her. But why bother? This was how it was going to end.

If I'd listened to Wolf, I would have had been able to apologize properly. They wouldn't be suffering. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and looked behind me.

The officer leaned against a wall, coughing and hacking.

For some reason Jake was before Wolf, imploring him for something. Michelle hung from his arm, tears flowing from her cheeks.

She shook her head and sniffed wetly, swallowing hard, and yanked on Jake's arm. "No, no I don't. I don't want to! I don't want—I don't want to die at all! Baby, babe, Jake, baby please there has to be. . . . Can't he fix it? Can he take them out?"

Michelle looked at me, then let go of Jake and ran to my side, grabbing my arms. I supported her the best I could when her legs buckled from pain, but we both wound up kneeling on the ground. When she spoke, she strained with the words. "Nichole—Tell me, tell me he can get it out. He can, right? He's got. . .he's got the alien tech!"

Though my mouth opened, nothing came from it. I shook my head, fresh tears welling in my eyes, and glanced over my shoulder at Wolf. He motioned toward the ship as a whole and I swallowed.

_He tried making that machine work. Righted it, tried to turn it on._

_To fix my wound_

But it hadn't turned on. It had sparked and fizzled and hadn't worked.

"The ship," I whispered. "When it crashed, the systems went down. The machines were all. . . ."

Her grip on my arms loosened and her momentarily hopeful expression deadened into despair. Jake pulled her off me and hugged her to his chest. "This is the only way."

_What's the only way?_

I looked to Wolf for answers; he regarded me in silence, flexing his arm. The blades in his wrist gauntlet extended with a metallic hiss and he tilted his head to the side. Everyone flinched at the sound, including me.

Those impassive eye sockets on his mask didn't leave me.

He was asking for my permission.

But for what? What had they been talking about? What was the only way?

The officer's swift movement drew my attention from Wolf. He took two strides forward, his arm moving from his hip upward. Wolf growled and stepped to my side at the same time a loud pop split the air and rattled my skull.

_What?_

Michelle's grip on my arms tightened, her manicured fingernails digging deep into my flesh. A strangled noise came from her throat and then she was gone from my side. " _Jake! Baby, no!"_

His body was already crumpled on the floor, lifeless.

"Jake! No, no, no, no!" she wailed, falling on her knees by her boyfriend, hands fluttering over his body, unsure of where to land or how to help. Her tear-streaked face turned to the officer, holding his gun. "Why? What the fuck? What the fuck! I—you didn't let me say goodbye!"

He moved the handgun off of Jake, lowering it a few inches. His free hand was clutching his chest, and he labored with his breathing. Every now and again he jerked with spasms.

"It's easier if it's quick," the officer muttered, voice rough and heavy.

This. . . ? This is what they had been talking about? They were going to end it on their own terms. Wolf had been trying to tell me. He was going to put them out of their misery.

I'd stopped him.

_You're nothing but a burden to everyone._

Torn, I scrambled over on my hands and knees to Michelle, holding her arm with both my hands. My eyes were on the officer, though, my head shaking with a silent prayer. He couldn't shoot her, I didn't want him to shoot her.

Just one, surely I could save _one_ of them.

They couldn't all die.

A rough hand stole me away from her, prying me with inhuman strength, and I stumbled up with an incoherent protest. I reached out for Michelle and she reached back, but Wolf pulled me farther away, chittering and growling the entire time.

Wolf's grip remained firm on me, though I tugged against it as much as I could. "Michelle," I managed to warble, the tears falling freely. "Michelle—"

She turned toward me and started to say something, but she doubled over and grabbed at her chest. In place of her sentence came an agonized shriek of pain. My heart withered and my fortitude faded until Wolf was the only thing keeping me on my feet.

The officer swallowed hard and raised his weapon again. "I'm sorry—it'll be quick, I promise."

He fired a single shot.

It jarred me to the bone and I jerked, as if it was me he was shooting. Michelle fell limp shortly after, folding over atop her boyfriend. Wolf fell quiet next to me, his eyes on the officer. His blades retracted back into his gauntlet.

I could feel it.

The tight pain in my chest. It was an ever-present hole, a hollow void where my heart was. Like I would never be able to breathe again.

No longer could I feel my heart pounding in my chest.

There was nothing.

A numbness spread throughout me, the only sensation being that crippling abyss. It swallowed me whole and I fell to my knees at the same time the cop did. Wolf let me go this time, allowing me to slip down into a slump.

"I've got two left," the officer said. I looked up at him to see he had already sighted me.

And I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Just enough."

Wolf, however, was having none of it. He issued a warning growl and stepped in front of me, extending his blades again. The officer stared at the two of us, looked back at the bodies, then sighed.

"Alright," he said, placing the gun against his temple. He could hardly hold it there while his body convulsed from its affliction. Already the sound of splintering bones was filling the hallway. He hadn't much time. "Use it if you need to. I'm sorry."

The shot ate the last piece of me. He fell, and I choked back a sob.

My escort took a moment to watch the bodies. I rose, hollow and weary, and headed down the hallway without a word.

Every step was unsure and ragged. My muscles shook like leaves in the wind and I felt so cold. So empty. Not even the gruesome sounds of tearing skin and broken bones could penetrate the nothingness. There came a tiny squeal, cut short by singing metal. I stumbled and chewed the bottom of my lip, vision blurry with tears.

Head shots won't kill the fetus.

I didn't know where I was going. Sounds of drones echoed down the hallway, drawn by the commotion. What did it matter, though? So what if they found me? Wolf would kill them and we'd continue on our way.

Business as usual.

He stopped me with a heavy hand and I looked up at him, not caring if he saw me crying. In his hand was the weapon I'd left behind. I stared at it as if I'd never seen it before, and he forced me to take hold of it. He babbled gibberish at me, then took point and headed down the hallway.

Just as I'd thought. Nothing out of the ordinary here. Death was expected in his line of duty.

It still cut me deep. The sorrow and emotional numbness muted the anger I wanted to feel at his lack of empathy. How could I be mad at him when this was normal? What did I expect? Sympathy? Condolences? A pat on the head?

Wolf didn't care my friends were all dead. He didn't care about my feelings. For all I knew his species wouldn't even be able to comprehend the emotions of humans.

Onward he dragged me, the sound of the Echo and its entourage scant meters behind us.

_Whatever. Let them come._

He opened up a door and pushed me inside, following closely. Instead of closing it he pushed me deeper inside the room and waited a second. Then, he turned to me and made a gesture I only saw from the corner of my eye before he disappeared.

Sobs formed knots in my chest and throbbed in the back of my head. I kept them in, but my legs refused to hold my weight any longer. My knees buckled and I collapsed to the ground, head in my hands. Wolf's rattling ceased and was replaced by the thundering footsteps of the Echo. It rushed past with a roar.

When the drones zipped by without checking the room, I hid my face in my knees. The silence spanned for several seconds and settled around me like a smothering blanket.

They were gone.

Wolf had left me.

And the silence deafened me.

I was alone. My friends were dead. Wolf had abandoned me because I was emotionally weak. I was on my own again, and I wasn't even sure if I wanted to make it out anymore. There was no one to save. My survival wasn't going to help anyone but me.

Air wouldn't fill my lungs and I started to hyperventilate. Drained physically and mentally, I collapsed onto my side and curled into a tight ball, my hands over my head. I inch-wormed my way from the doorway and sobbed into my arms. I didn't bother keeping them in check. They shook me hard enough to hurt.

_Nothing will ever be okay._

_My fault._


	11. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end of this batch of updates. Though this is the shortest chapter I've posted in a while, I'm not sure what else I could have put in there. If you have any ideas, any insight to something I rushed or could have otherwise spent more time on, let me know in the comments! I'm always happy for constructive feedback. 
> 
> Thanks so much for everyone who's commented and offered feedback thus far! I really appreciate it and it does help. :) Keep on being beautiful and I'll see you in the next update (whenever that might be)!

Time came to a standstill and I lost track of how long I lied there. It could have been two minutes or two hours. Eventually I ran out of steam and turned into a simpering mess of silent sobs and dry tears. My body still trembled, tired and worn out, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to stand again.

It wasn't fair.

Why me? Why was I okay? Why was I the person who had survived? Why not my friends?

I didn't deserve it. I'd left them. Maybe if I'd just stuck with them until the end I could have helped them out. I could have stopped them from being infected altogether.

But would I have even escaped without Anderson's help?

Tears had long since stopped spilling, and my sobs had subsided into quieter hiccups. I remained in a tight ball, quaking and beating myself up.

After all, I'd done this.

I had convinced Jess to come on this stupid trip. I had withdrawn so far from reality that I couldn't see the truth, and Jess had suffered. She'd died a horrible death because I was too selfish to believe that she was in pain.

Wolf had tried to tell me. Jake had tried to tell me. Why hadn't I just listened?

I'd done this.

_My fault._

Slowly I sat up and braced myself against the wall. Though I didn't cry, I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. There was nothing left for me to do. I'd followed after Wolf because it was my ticket out of this hell hole. If I got out, I could save my friends. Maybe stop an invasion while I was at it.

But now I had no friends to save.

And stop an invasion? Yeah right. Wolf could kill them all by himself. I'd just been the tag along shadow, riding his wake to safety. Maybe he could kill the Queen and the Echo both. It's not like I was going to be any help.

Did he really need me at all?

There had to be another survivor around that could help him. It was a big ship. Even if they had been wounded, they could have holed themselves up somewhere, tended their wounds, and were waiting for help to arrive.

No one needed me. No one needed a selfish, naïve child. Who was I kidding? Wolf might have saved one of his comrades. Might have already killed the Echo.

And I'd slowed him down.

At least the cop had been on top of it. I only wished there had been more time. Wished he could have allowed us to say goodbye. A goodbye I would never be able to say to Jess. It was for the best that he hadn't hesitated or waited, though. In the end it would have been harder to let go, and they had been in pain. Half a minute later and they would have suffered like Jess had.

Maybe I should be grateful. I couldn't deny that it had been quick. Wolf might have ended it just as painlessly and killed the chestbursters in the same fell swoop, though. I could still hear their bones cracking, bouncing around in my skull.

I didn't feel grateful, though. There wasn't much I _did_ feel.

Just a lot of guilt.

I lifted my head to rest my chin on my knees. Though I didn't move, I glanced around the room within my peripheral vision. There was nothing in it, and I wondered briefly what it was for.

Again I hid my face in my knees, squeezing tighter until the caps pressed into my sternum. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," I said to no one in particular. The ghosts of my dead friends, haunting me until the end of time. Blaming me.

Not that they needed to. I was doing that for them.

_My fault._

More screeches sounded in the far distance. I lifted my head to look, but they were nowhere near my room. Whatever room this was. I thought I heard the Echo somewhere, but it could have been anything. It started my brain, though. Why was I sitting here? Was I waiting for him, or was I waiting for a drone to find me?

Was there no end to my own stupidity?

I didn't have to. Why wait when I could go find the trouble instead?

Whatever part of me that still wanted to live picked up the blade on the ground. I dragged myself into a stand and shuffled to the open door. First glance told me there was nothing outside, so I wandered out. Had Wolf told me to stay? I'd stopped paying attention to him long ago.

Well, if he had, he'd just have to come find me. I wasn't going to wait anymore.

The blade hung limp at my side, long enough that the very tip dragged across the floor. It made a gentle scratching sound every couple seconds, but it was a good distraction from the horrible silence. On a whim I pulled my phone from my pocket. It had a small amount of battery life left and no reception, and the clock read close to five in the morning. Still more than an hour until sunrise.

Sunrise meant it would be easier to make it down the mountain.

Maybe even off the ship.

All I had to do was find a section of the hull that the crash had destroyed. A hole or something I could crawl out of. The drones had to be getting off the ship somewhere, so I had to find it and sneak through it myself. If the sun rose, I could find the hole easier.

Then I'd go home and. . . .

And what? Go back to school? Pretend everything is fine? There wasn't anything left for me. Maybe to see my mom again, my dad, my siblings. I wasn't sure, but I didn't know what else to do but try to go home.

If I lived through stumbling about, I'd figure it out.

*:･ﾟ✧

I fumbled around in a daze, feet dragging. The ship was silent except for the ambient cries of the aliens. They were far enough away I wasn't worried, and even if it had been close I wasn't sure if I would care anyway. I had the serrated blade Wolf had given me. If something came, I'd do my best.

It wouldn't be enough, but I'd try.

Somehow I found myself doubling back to the place my friends had fallen. Maybe I couldn't let them go quite yet. I collapsed next to them, blind to the bloody mess that was their chests. For a moment I stared, then remembered why I was there. Why my legs had carried me back to their corpses.

Identification.

The dog tags were still heavy around my neck, and I rubbed my thumb against the metal tags. They wouldn't have those, but I was sure I could find something to give their parents when I returned.

If I returned.

My hands fumbled through their jackets' and pants' pockets. All Jake had was his wallet, so I pulled out his ID and stowed that with the rest of the things. Michelle had her wallet, phone, and her digital camera, so I put her license next to Jake's and shoved her camera in my back pocket. Jess had her phone, but I was encumbered. I went through the rest of the wallets to find IDs, leaving behind what I could while still keeping something worth keeping.

At least I could wear the dog tags. And it was something that I could do.

A new goal to live for.

Give the dog tags to the military, give the phones and shit to the adults. I could do that. I could live for that.

Oh, but. . . _I didn't want to._

My eyes strayed to the officer. I took his badge and as I was finding room to shove it in my pockets, I saw his gun resting in his limp hands.

It still had one bullet left.

Lip quivering, I pulled it from his fingers and held it in both my hands, the sword on the ground at my side. My hands shook as I stared at it, considering the bullet left in the chamber.

 _"Use it if you need to."_ That's what he'd said.

I tightened my grip on it and let my index finger slide onto the trigger. Though I tried, I couldn't raise it higher than my chest. My face contorted into anguish and I tossed the weapon away. It skittered across the ground and smacked into a wall, far out of my reach.

 _Can't do it_. I snorted at myself in disgust and stood up to leave.

Exhaustion tugged at my eyelids and weighted my limbs. My mind was running on fumes, ragged and dry. I wandered aimlessly for a while until I could no longer. Even then I soldiered on, stopping only when I found another empty room. It was open, so I assumed it was a public room for all who lived on the ship.

There was a few metal tables welded to the floor. I curled up underneath one, figuring I could take a small break after all that I'd done, all the progress. All the death. I deserved that much, right?

Just a few minutes to lay down?

After wandering for the fifteen or so minutes, I hadn't seen hide nor hair of anything. No Wolf. No drones. No nothing. I figured I could have a couple moments to myself to just rest. I wanted sleep, but I couldn't have sleep.

My tears had dried up, the sobs subsided to an occasional hiccup. The crying had taken its toll, though. I thought I had done a decent job keeping it together. I was mostly keeping it together, still.

Mostly.

Maybe I could sleep. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. If I just let myself succumb to my exhaustion, I would be asleep for when the drones found me. Maybe then I wouldn't feel them tear me apart. I'd be asleep, and I would never wake up.

Easy.

I wouldn't have to wake up deal with the consequences of what I'd done.

It would be better than dealing with the sharp pain in my chest. Better than the knowledge that I had killed Jess. That I had killed them all.

But I'd already known that.

From the very second that I'd left them behind in the woods I knew I'd killed them. Why did it matter now? What was the difference? Killed them then, killed them now. . . .

Maybe because I hadn't watched them die.

Now I had.

Wolf's blade laid next to me on the ground, dropped when I had collapsed. I blinked at it, then pushed it away and rolled over, my back to it. I didn't want to use it anymore. I didn't want to try. I was too tired. Shooting myself was too hard, just as saving my friends was.

I didn't deserve a quick death. That was too good for me.

Being torn apart in my sleep was almost too good for me. Why did I deserve to live? I was nothing but a burden. A useless heap of flesh that needed to be saved and protected, a selfish waste of space that left her friends behind and forced an alien to help her.

_I'm done._

_Done, done, done, done, done. . . ._

Closing my eyes, I pillowed my head on my arms and curled up tighter. My breathing slowed and it felt amazing to close my eyes and rest. To pretend that I wasn't on an alien ship crawling with things that wanted to eat me.

It was way past my bed time, anyway. I should be in bed, sleeping. None of it should have happened. They'd warned us.

But it was too late now.

Finally I started to slip. I let my eyes close and took in one more shaky breath, remnants of crying. My mind raced with "should'a, would'a, could'a" scenarios, threatening to keep me awake.

Not for long, though.

I knew that with how exhausted I was, I would pass out into sleep sooner rather than later and then it would be all be over. A drone would find me, and I could only hope that I would sleep through the infection or mauling.

That was a mercy I didn't deserve. Let me wake up to find them tearing at me.

Let my punishment come.

*:･ﾟ✧

Somewhere—somewhere close—a screech jerked me from my slumber. I started violently and my eyes shot open, immediately darting around the small room.

I couldn't have been asleep for long.

So, after all, I would be awake for my comeuppance.

The sound came again, louder this time. My heart started to pound against my chest and I blinked away the dreariness from my sight.

Part of me wanted to curl back up and try to sleep again, but my lizard brain forced me to find out. I crawled out from under the table, my hand brushing the hilt of the big-ass blade that Wolf had gifted. My fingers folded around the cool handle out of instinct and I inched toward the door.

All I saw were shadows inside shadows on top of more shadows. There was something out there, though, in the hallway. I thought I saw movement somewhere to my side and I stared, but saw nothing. They were beginning to dredge up more feeling of flight or fight.

But why? I shouldn't care. I wanted this. I forced myself to calm down, to take a deep breath.

_This is how it should be._

When the drone's shape appeared, no matter what I thought, I was afraid. It was unadulterated and viscous fear burning in the back of my head.

Its form had the hairs on the back of my neck raising. I lifted the blade higher and tried to sneak back into the room, but it spotted me. The drone swiveled its head toward me, chrome fangs glinting in the dim lighting. Though the damage was already done, I ducked back inside.

I raised the blade higher, then lowered it again.

_Let it come. Let it finish this and dole out your punishment._

Frozen in place, my eyes were wide and unblinking. The drone's head peered into the room and I backed up further until my back hit a table. My heart dropped.

_All you have to do is stand here._

My arms moved of their own accord and raised the blade higher. Though I tried, my arms was stuck in that pose, fingers white-knuckled around the grip. I was just waiting for the angel of death to swoop in and end my misery.

When it squealed and lurched toward me, adrenaline forced me into movement.

Flight.

As if under a spell, my legs jerked me out of the way. I stumbled and picked myself up, then tore down the hallway. The thing shrieked and give chase. I pushed myself faster, arms and legs pumping. A corner blocked my way and I skittered to change direction, thumping against the wall. I almost dropped the sword.

At least the hallways, unlike the forest, were a straight shot. There wasn't as much debris to deal with but the occasional hanging wires and tubes or pieces of ceiling. Maybe I was a goal keeper and not a striker, but I was in shape. I could still run, I was still fast.

_Stop running!_

My body wouldn't listen to the desperate, guilty voice that plagued me. Fear drove me forward, fueled by every sound the thing behind me made. I knew not to look backwards and I kept my eyes forward, on the prize. Possible escape.

But it wasn't escape.

It was a dead end.

I was running fast enough and it was dark enough that the end of the hallway snuck up on me. I slammed on the breaks, but I still collided against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of me. I practically bounced off and my arms flailed as I tried to keep my balance.

_What about the drone?_

Whirling around, I put my back to the wall and held the blade in front of me, trembling. I coughed a few times, trying to fill my lungs with air again and rid myself of the pain.

It was still sprinting toward me. I couldn't drop the weapon and as the beast bore down on me, there was only one thought in my head. It overrode any of the guilt I was feeling and overwhelmed any of my higher cognitive thoughts.

_I'm scared._

When it saw I was trapped, it slowed its pace. Its head swung one way and another, considering me, checking for other enemies. Weighing its options and seeing what I would do. The waiting was killing me. The end result would be the same—so what if I put up a little bit of a fight?

Maybe it was better that way. Maybe it would just outright kill me instead of bother with having to string me up to a wall.

Step by step it came closer, hissing and snarling. My chest heaved with each breath and I couldn't hold the blade in my hand steady, even with both hands. When it was about ten yards away, it stopped and crouched, muscles bunching. I knew it was going to spring and attack.

I wanted to let it, but my body tensed in preparation.

_I don't want to die._

Self-preservation won over guilt. When it leaped, I was ready.

The drone sprang with its powerful back legs, arms outstretched and claws ready to strike. I bellowed an incoherent battle-cry—more like a frightened scream—and lashed out with Wolf's blade. The black serpent screeched as the swing connected, slicing off one of the large shoulder protrusions.

It wasn't enough to stop it and it slammed into me. I smashed back-first into the wall and the weight of the monster dragged me to the ground.

Grunting and whimpering, I fought to slice with the blade, to thrust it upward. Claws tore the arm of my shirt and my skin, then I found my mark with the blade. The creature snarled and I used all my strength to shove it away from me, the blade driven deep into its chest.

It thrashed on the ground and I rolled away from it after pulling my weapon loose. I had to get away from it, had to crawl. . . .

White-hot pain exploded on my shoulder blade. I screamed and flipped over, convulsing once. The drone hadn't quite died, and it was looming over me to strike. Acid blood poured from its open chest and I squirmed away from it.

I'd pulled out the only thing plugging up the wound on its chest.

Its blood ate through my jacket and seared my skin. I kicked away from the alien as it stumbled and fell. Just in time I yanked my leg back to avoid dripping acid. It screeched and reached out with a claw, tearing my pant leg, but it couldn't stand.

The barb-tipped tail lashed out at me, striking the ground by my hip. I thrashed and somehow pulled my feet under me enough to propel away from it.

I had to put some distance between us, had to deal with this burn. . . .

The pain was almost unbearable. I did the only thing I could think to do—I threw myself toward the drone.

They drooled copious amounts of thick slime, and it was pooling underneath it. That was the answer. Those things didn't burn themselves. I dipped in to soak my fingers in the pooled slime, then zagged away from sharp claws.

In order to stop acid you had to drop the base, and the slime was the base.

Rolling to avoid a tail-slash, I braced against a wall and slathered the slime over the growing burn. I caked as much onto it as I could and the relief was almost instant.

Though the pain didn't stop, it didn't worsen and that sound stopped. I could no longer hear my flesh sizzling and I whipped around, picking up the blade I had dropped. The drone hadn't gotten back up, but it was still trying to crawl toward me. I stood and took a few swift steps toward it, ducked under its tail, and then drove Wolf's sword into its skull.

When I pulled it out, the drone slumped, and didn't move again.

Stumbling and panting, I fell to the floor. I watched the thing for a few minutes, waiting to see if it would get up, and when it didn't I crawled toward it. My shoulder blade stung with an intensity that brought tears to my eyes, and I feared the acid-blood would eat through me.

The first application had helped, but it still hurt so much. It was corroding my flesh and it was only a matter of time before it ate my bone.

Thick, viscous saliva dribbled from the dead creature's maw. Though it made my skin crawl, I coated my fingers in the nastiness and rubbed some of it all over my shoulder blade. It hurt to touch and I could already tell how marred the skin was.

In a moment of hysteria, I thought what luck I had that it was my back and not my chest.

Relief came with more slime and I held my arm tight to my chest. Every breath was a pained wheeze, my mouth agape in silent screams.

My entire body trembled. I swallowed hard and leaned my head against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to catch my breath. There wasn't much time for rest, this I knew, but even a couple seconds of a reprieve would be good enough.

Something brushed against the top of my head. My eyes flew open and I whirled around, swinging wildly with the blade. Too late I realized that it was Wolf standing there.


	12. Endless Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next handful of chapters I'm posting are still kinda iffy in my mind. So please, if you have any thoughts or critiques, share them with me! I love hearing an outsider's opinion. I just want to make sure everything's consistent and structured logically. . . . I don't know! Just let me know what you think or if you see any mistakes or errors. :)

One second I was hacking wildly at what I thought was an enemy, the next my arms were jarred with the solid impact of metal against armor. I reeled with the blow, but didn't move in for a second attempt. This was Wolf, after all. It wouldn't matter how many I times I may try. He'd flatten me in no time flat without effort.

The acid burn on my back throbbed and I stumbled away, hunched over and holding my arm tight against my chest to keep my shoulder blade from moving too much. I attempted to straighten and stand my ground, but the pain left me breathless.

"I—" Words failed me as I gaped at him, wincing. He stood there with his arm up, gauntlet facing me as if preparing to ward off another swing. I hadn't even seen him move to block.

Eventually my wits returned to me through the fog of pain. "I—I'm sorry! I wasn't expecting—I thought you'd. . .I'm sorry!" I took a tentative step away from him and raised my blade a few inches in front of me, afraid of retaliation. Though it drew the angry skin on my back taught, I grit my teeth and held my blade with both hands.

Wolf watched me, head cocked to the side, then turned to look at the drone's corpse. He studied it for a moment, then glanced at me again.

Suddenly, he closed the distance between us with a single stride. It wasn't a particularly threatening gesture, but I was still wound up from my close call and afraid of being punished. I took a step back and tried to dodge around him.

However, he grabbed my upper arm and held me in place. I went rigid, ignoring the vast helplessness I felt. He was faster, stronger. . . . I should have been more afraid of him up until right then. He hadn't done anything so far to harm me—maybe used me as bait, maybe threatened to kill me one time, but never physically attacked me.

But I'd never threatened him, either, and right then I'd tried to cut him.

We stared at each other for a few moments. When it was clear I was powerless and I stopped struggling, his grip on my arm loosened to a more comfortable level and he relaxed, filling me with relief and giving me a reason to relax as well.

_Not gonna hurt me yet._

His thoughtful chittering took on a different edge as he turned me around. He left me to wallow in my own dark thoughts as he examined the burn on my back. I winced as he gently drew a claw over it, but if it concerned him he didn't show it.

 _You're always freaking out about everything_ , I chided myself. Forget the fact that death lurked around every corner. Complacency wouldn't get me anywhere in here.

Not Wolf, though. Wolf didn't seem interested in killing me. Only helping. So far, anyway.

Odd, but I wasn't about to complain.

His fingers were warm to the touch and rough. Each tug of the burned fabric of my jacket made me cringe, but I bit back any protests. He heaved my jacket up until he almost pulled it off me, but I couldn't get my arm high enough without blackout pain. I squeaked a myriad of profanities and squirmed, but he held me firm. Somehow, his utterings sounded irritated.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm a puny fragile human who's not wearing any armor. Bite me." I croaked.

As if affronted, he snorted and leaned away from me, letting go of my jacket. I rolled my eyes and said, "I didn't mean it literally!"

Shaking his shoulders like an irate dog, he reached for me again and tore the back of my jacket more, trying to undress me. I swatted at him with my good arm and danced away from him. "Could you not? I don't have any more clothes to wear." He might be confident enough not to wear a full body armor suit, but I didn't have solid muscle to hide behind, just the jacket.

Sighing, I shot him a glare and started to remove the coat. Each movement twisted the sensitive flesh of my back and threatened to drive me to my knees. Through sheer force of will, I managed to peel it off me. When next I spoke, it was tense from pain but sharp with frustration. "See? It comes off easy."

Wolf chittered belligerently and spun me around to examine the wound more, then sat me down and pulled out his medical kit. I hadn't seen him refill it, so I assumed he'd done it while I was inebriated by the drug he'd given me. Or maybe even after he'd ditched me. After a moment of mixing, he spread the concoction on my back.

It stung, and my skin crawled. I managed to stay still, though, except for a few seconds of squirming and let him finish it. Eventually, the heat soothed and numbed, and then he let me up.

Tentative at first, I moved my arm around and rolled my shoulders. After a few seconds of testing out my movements, I decided I would be okay. There was minimal pain and I could feel the skin stretching and rubbing, but there seemed to be something covering the wound.

Whatever it was, it was probably like alien Neosporin, or liquid bandage. I looked over my shoulder to try to get an idea of what it was like, but I couldn't. The wound was too far down my scapula. There was a distinct pucker close to my shoulder, but anything else was lost from perspective. I wouldn't truly know the extent until I found a mirror or something.

"So I'm gonna live?" I asked, my voice flat even though I'd meant to be humorous.

He nodded his head and I sighed. At least he hadn't had to stick me with that horse needle again. Once I had my jacket back on, he made me take up my weapon. I picked it up where I'd left it to remove my jacket, but I had to hold it in my right hand, and it was that shoulder blade that was FUBAR.

Even with the treatment, my arm was still stiff. The drone bite from earlier hadn't so far given me any issue, so I was sure that with some time my shoulder would be okay, as well.

At least until I could seek more in-depth medical help.

His posture told me he was displeased and he grabbed my arm again. I stood rigid as he started to manipulate me. Despite my minimal struggles and protests, his grip was gentle if firm. He adjusted my hold on the blade's hilt, pushed my shoulders back, then kicked my legs apart. Before he was satisfied, he had to make more minute changes to my posture.

The concoction he'd rubbed on my burn helped mute the pain, but there was still discomfort caused by the slightest movements. I could work through it, though. I'd been kicked and stepped on during games and played through twisted ankles. A treated burn was fine.

So I stood there, dumbfounded until he stepped back and appraised my stance. Before, when I'd thought I'd needed to defend myself against Wolf, I had been standing like I was in the batter's box. After his ministrations I was bent at the waist, my arm held out to my side and blade raised. I felt absolutely ridiculous, if not more stable.

Mostly ridiculous.

He extended his own, smaller blade and mimicked my posture. I let my stance slacken, afraid he was asking me to fight: the last thing I wanted to do. Wolf showed me his displeasure by lashing out and striking my arm with the flat of his blade. He punctuated it with a sharp growl.

"Ow!" I recoiled and gave him a stung look. "You hit me!"

Once again he smacked my arm with the flat side and growled.

"Ow! Knock it off!"

_You can't even block his half-assed strikes._

When he raised his arm against me again, though, I was ready. Wolf had made it clear he wasn't actually trying to hurt me, but I still didn't like it. So when he struck out, I batted him away with my own sloppy parry. His chest rumbled in what I thought was a satisfied purr.

Thinking we were done, I stood at ease, ready to follow him wherever he went next. However, he raised his blade to smack me again. I was able to block before he smacked me.

"Fine! God, stop," I muttered, glaring at him.

Grumbling profanities, I did my best to slide back into the stance he wanted and glowered at him. He appraised me, then gave me some space and mimicked my pose. What the fuck was going on? Was this a challenge? A lesson? Why?

What did he even care anymore? I'd had an emotional breakdown and ran off after he'd told me to stay put. He shouldn't want to teach me anything let alone treat _another_ wound.

Yet here we were. I didn't understand him.

After a second, he swung his blade, making me flinch. It didn't come close to hitting me, though, so I held still. He showed me the swing a couple more times, then watched me expectantly. I huffed, realized that he wanted me to give it a shot, then tried my best to replicate the way he'd swung, though my range of movement was still limited.

Despite being out of my comfort zone, my shoulder was loosening up and the strike was simple. The blade was heavier in one hand, but still light enough that I could swing without issue.

He made me repeat a few more times, then stowed his blade and nodded in approval.

I stared at him, bewildered—but happy to let my arm rest.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, sounding more demanding than I'd meant.

I didn't falter when he shifted his gaze toward me, his head cocked. My confidence grew as my anger built. Anger at my situation, anger at myself, anger at my friends' deaths. . . .

"Why are you even bothering with me anymore?"

Wolf clicked something at me, shifting his weight. I didn't understand, so I continued.

"Teaching me how to swing this stupid thing? I had a complete meltdown and ignored your orders and. . . ." When I paused for breath, Wolf rattled something like a question at me.

"I'm not _like_ you! Those were my _best friends_ in there, and it was _my fault_. I can't just walk away! I can't just get over it. I don't know how you people handle the death of a friend, or a comrade, or whatever, but I can't just. . .just deal with it," I ranted, slumping my shoulders near the end.

He tilted his head to the other side and watched, waiting for me to finish my tirade. I found his silence even more infuriating.

I took a breath and continued. "At least don't pretend this is something it isn't! I'm nothing but fodder! I'm not a warrior. I just asked for this thing so I could live a little longer, but now I don't care! If I die in here, maybe I'll have made it up to her, to them. So use me as bait, fucking kill me afterwards, I don't even. . .I don't fucking care anymore," I muttered, staring at his chest so I didn't have to look at that impassive mask.

There was a long pause, each heartbeat making me more and more horrified. I'd just gone off on this guy, and for all I knew he hated mouthy little humans.

When he finally made a move, I looked up at him through my lashes. He extended his hand and set it down on top of my head. I glowered and assumed he was patronizing me. Then he chittered something and turned to motion at the dead drone I had slain. For a moment I just stared at it, then I looked back up at him.

"Yeah, so?" I muttered.

He let his hand fall from my head to my shoulder and then took a step back. He straightened up and then thumped his closed fist against his chest. I watched him, brow knitted, then looked back to the dead drone.

The one I'd killed. By myself. Without his help.

My eyes widened and I looked up at him. I took in the way he was facing me, holding his fist to his chest, the heavy weight of his hand on my shoulder. . .was he acknowledging the kill as some sort of accomplishment?

I supposed in a way it was. The only things I'd killed were a bunch of unborn facehuggers, a couple live ones, and a chestburster or two. None of them were particularly capable of defending themselves, they were just super obnoxious. Any drones I'd come across I'd either run from or Wolf had killed for me.

This was my first, real, solo kill.

"What, so like. . . ." I fumbled, staring at the corpse. "Are you congratulating me?"

Wolf said something incoherent. It was a single statement, a long word. Nothing like the ones I associated with "yes" and "no". I shook my head and averted my gaze, staring at the dead thing. I said, "Well, thanks, I guess. Just got lucky."

_"Nichole."_

Startled, I snapped my head around. That voice—it was Jess'. For a moment I had thought. . .but it was just Wolf standing there, looking at me expectantly. I blinked away the tears and reminded myself that he knew not what he did to me, though I wanted to punch him for it.

"What?" I intoned, eyeing him.

He lifted his fist, wrist rotated outward. I stared at him for a moment, confused, until he urged me on with a gesture and a word. For a few beats I wasn't sure what he wanted, so I just lifted my own arm, shadowing the way he held his wrist out. It seemed like it was the right thing to do, because he nodded and bumped his wrist against mine.

Realization washed over me and I made an "o" shape with my mouth. It was like a fist bump.

I narrowed my eyes, but couldn't stifle the smile. "So. . . we're cool, then? I mean, you're not mad." Somehow I didn't think he'd understand what "cool" meant in this context.

He nodded and turned away from me to look at the drone. He stared at it for a moment, then grabbed it by its tail and dragged it across the ground, away from the wall. It rolled on its side when he nudged it with his foot, and I wondered what he was doing.

"What's your name?" I asked. For some reason, the question brought heat to my face.

He paused for a second, then rattled off something I couldn't quite follow. He must have read my expression, though, because he repeated it again, a little slower this time.

I did my best to imitate the sounds he made, but my tongue wouldn't make the right sound. I gave it two tries, and when he started laughing at me I gave up. I felt a blush creep across my face and I grumbled to myself. "Fuck it—I'm going to call you Wolf. Is that okay? Wolf?"

Once his deep, rolling laugh petered out, he nodded his head.

"Alright then. . . what now?"

My escort-turned-comrade turned and motioned toward the dead thing on the ground. I stared at it, then looked up at him and shook my head, not understanding. He cocked his head to the side, then kneeled down by the corpse and motioned for me to move by the wall. I stared at him, looked around, then sighed and followed his order.

The body shifted as he looked it over. After a moment, he pulled out a short knife and started sawing at the neck, as if attempting to remove the thing's head. That's what I assumed, anyway: I couldn't see very well as he was sitting in my line of vision.

Shaking my head I asked, "Do we have time for this? What if something else comes by and tries to eat us?"

Wolf glanced at me, then chittered and continued his work. I pursed my lips, but decided not to argue. This was his show, now. If he wanted to take his sweet-ass time, whatever. I had no desire to escape anymore, so the longer I could stall facing my friends' parents, my own parents—fuck, the whole town, the better.

I ended up lying down on my side while I waited. I was so exhausted and I knew I'd pass out without the help of adrenaline. The only thing keeping me going was the thrill of staying alive, and breaks like these made my whole body ache.

The acid burn on my back still stung. I had to shift to lie comfortably, but I was tired enough that the pain didn't keep me from closing my eyes.

A loud growl startled me just as I was about to fall asleep and I bolted upright with a jolt. I rubbed at my bleary eyes, blinking in the darkness. It was warm, it was dark. . .I just wanted to sleep. When could I sleep?

At this rate, probably not until I was dead.

"Hmm?" I hummed, trying to focus long enough to see what he wanted to show me. My shoulder was stiff and the skin tight, and I kept my arm tucked against my chest.

The drone wasn't completely gutted like what we did with fish. He'd only cut up parts of it and detached the head. I had no real idea of how he'd done any of that. The skull was a little mangled, parts of the spine were missing. . . . I wished I had paid attention, but the short nap I had taken was probably more important than my curiosity.

I examined the dead body from where I sat, wondering what he was doing. When the body gave no clues, I glanced at him. He was holding something in his hand, and I forced my eyes to focus on it in the dark.

A small, under-developed skull dangled from a leather thong, a few pieces of vertebrae and teeth lining it on either side. It looked like. . .a necklace? Maybe?

"Are these. . . ." I lifted my hand tentatively, waiting for a rebuke, but when it didn't come I held the skull in my hand. It looked like a chestburster head. I glanced up at him, unsure what to think. "Are these, like. . . _my_ trophies?"

He nodded and thrust his hand forward, insisting I take it. I rubbed my fingers against my palms, nervous about touching weird alien bones. I didn't want to be rude, though, so I took the trinket from him and looked it over. The bones were clean and perfectly bleached. I didn't see any tools around, so I wondered how he'd managed that in such a short time.

Why did he make this trinket, instead of something else? The denizens of the ship mounted skulls on the wall, so I didn't understand why he made such a bauble.

The head was obviously too big to take. It would be cumbersome while traveling the ship. He likely wouldn't want me mounting it over my mantle at home, either. I studied him for a few seconds to see if he wore anything similar and did recognize a few similar things here and there attached to his person. Maybe it was more common than I realized.

I rotated the skull in my hands, wondering where he'd picked it up. It wouldn't be some random thing he'd found or killed. Like the vertebrae and teeth from the drone I'd slain, it would be something I'd killed, but the only one was. . . .

My eyes widened and I rubbed my index finger over the smooth forehead.

_It can't be. He wouldn't._

"Is this. . .from. . . ." I had a hard time trying to say it. It felt like my throat was going to swell shut if I tried. I took a steadying breath and looked up at him. "From my friend. . . ?"

When had he had the time? The last thing I saw of him was his back receding as he led the Echo away. Between that and my wandering, how would he have had the time to ditch the Echo, find the chestburster, then me? Unless he assumed I'd gone back to their bodies and looked there first.

He nodded his head, and I fought to control my expression. It twisted first into horror before I gained the control I needed to keep it neutral.

Then I had to stop myself from hurling it down the hallway in disgust.

This was his way of saying he was sorry, that he held some sort of sympathy for me. Or maybe this was just custom in his culture. I didn't know why, what it would be for. It was the centerpiece of this trophy, instead of the kill I'd made solo. Obviously it meant something to him, and he thought it would mean something to me.

But to me, it wasn't anything but salt in the wound.

How could he know it would be a constant reminder of my mistakes? The fact that it was my fault it had happened?

Anger battled with grief. He hadn't meant this to hurt me. My fingers tightened around the strap holding the trinket together and I chewed on my bottom lip. Tears welled in my eyes; the gesture infuriated and touched me.

But I could fake it.

I had gone through years and years of terrible Christmas presents, mediocre birthday gifts. . . . I had practiced false gratitude all my life. The fact that he thought it was important should have honored me. He was honoring my friend, in his own alien way, and I had to try to respect that. Her death was still fresh in my mind. With time maybe it would make more sense.

So I forced down the initial, gut-wrenching reaction, and tried to see it for what it was: a testament to all that had happened. A reminder that I was stronger than I thought, and that Jess's death hadn't gone unpunished.

None of their deaths would. I would do everything in my power to make sure we killed every fucking one of them.

I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, then looked up at Wolf with a forced smile. My voice was hoarse when I spoke. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

Wolf rolled his shoulders and babbled something under his breath. He was already on his feet, and he heaved me up by the back of my shirt as well so we were both standing. I protested mildly at the manhandling but steadied myself and straightened my shirt. When he turned his back to lead me onward, I did what I thought would please him: tied the necklace-trophy around my neck.

Even it was all kinds of morbid, the last thing I wanted to do was insult him. Maybe I'd learn to like it. Though I wasn't fond of the gift, it was the thought that counts.

Before he could pull too far ahead, I bent down to pick up my weapon and jogged after him.

The necklace bounced heavily with the dog tags and I held it down. Despite the gloomy reminder, I told myself it was an honor. It was him telling me I wasn't just bait. Maybe not quite an equal, but I was _worth something_.


	13. The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a completely new chapter, not found in the original I posted on Fanfiction.net. Is it too much, or was it a nice touch to Nichole's character arc? I'm just so UNSURE ABOUT EVERYTHING. Let me know what you think about the third wheel, too.

The ship had fallen silent except for an ominous screeching somewhere in the bowels. It echoed through the corridors and raised the hair on the back of my neck. Something about it was familiar, but quite unlike the screeches I had become accustomed to.

Nothing stirred in the hallways. No drones, no chestbursters, not even a stray facehugger skittered along the ground. The Echo had even fallen into obscurity.

"Where'd everything go? Did we kill them all?" I asked in a misguided attempt at some humor. After a while, the bouncing of the weird trophy-necklace Wolf had made irritated me enough that I tucked it under my shirt with the dog tags.

Wolf didn't dignify my stupid question with a response.

Sighing, I trudged after him with my weapon held the way he had shown me. It felt strange, but I was slowly growing accustomed to it. From time to time when I thought Wolf wasn't looking, I'd turn my wrist to a more natural resting position, but he'd always turn and smack me for it. Made me wonder if he had eyes in the back of his head like my parents did.

I wasn't sure why it mattered so much. What did it matter _how_ I was holding it so long as I still hacked something apart? Making him mad seemed like a poor choice, so I went with it. If it helped me kill aliens better, then so be it.

He lead us expertly through the dark halls for what could have been the better part of half an hour. The first few twists and turns had me tense and ready for action, but the longer we went without interruption or event, the more I relaxed. If nothing was going to happen, I couldn't keep up the levels of adrenaline necessary to stay on edge.

And, of course, the fatigue threatened to overtake me. I fought against it and rubbed the weariness from my eyes.

But the further we traveled, the louder that strange screeching became. Eventually, the familiar sound of the Echo joined it. Then, seconds later, I could barely make out bellows that stirred my memory—a sound I was vaguely acquainted with.

It was coming from far into the depths of the ship, but it was enough to bring Wolf to pause. I waited for him to finish listening, and then he took off at a faster pace.

His increased urgency and the roars clicked together in my mind.

"Friend of yours?" I panted between breaths.

Again he ignored my questions, sparing me only a brief sidelong glance.

The rolling cry of the Echo took a sudden change and Wolf put his arm out to stop me, skidding to a halt himself. I crashed against his limb and he pushed me against the wall just as the Echo slammed into the hallway, collapsing in a heap when it ran head first into the wall across from it.

Stupid thing still seemed to have trouble with corners.

My breath caught in my throat and I watched from around Wolf's bulk as it untangled itself. It gave its head a hefty shake, then trained its sightless gaze on us. As a whole, its head was not dissimilar to the drones running everywhere—elongated skull, jaw full of teeth—it was perhaps wider and flatter, but the body was the main difference.

It was still biomechanical in design, but it skittered along on six legs instead of two or four. The front two were the biggest of the limbs, powering it along. Its head sat on a muscular and wide thorax, while its abdomen was the most streamlined part. It, too, sported a barbed tail.

The thing took up the entire hallway, blocking our path, and it had noticed us. Wolf's buddy was going to have to wait.

As if it was surprised to see us, the Echo spent a few precious seconds staring at us. Wolf made the first move; with a flex of muscle, his gauntlet blades extended. The hiss of metal pierced the silence and elicited a strangled pulse of sound from the Echo.

It charged toward us, tossing its head like a raging bull. My legs tensed to run, but Wolf grabbed my arm and held me still. It closed the twenty-yard gap quickly, and every instinct was telling me to run, but Wolf would not budge. He held his ground with a fierce pride, and I had enough time to wonder if he was trying to teach me another lesson.

_"Stand your ground!"_

_"Never back down!"_

Shit like that. I wanted to stay, but the thing was so much bigger than the normal drones. I had barely survived my first armed, solo encounter with one of them as it was.

Suddenly, he yanked me toward him and nearly wrenched my arm out of its socket doing so. I was powerless to keep my footing as I was pulled forward, and he let go of my arm to fist the back of my jacket. With inhuman strength, he hurled me down the hallway—right _at_ the giant alien parasite.

I had the grace to withhold my scream of fear, and instead, I closed my eyes tight so I wouldn't have to watch myself get trampled. The ground came up to meet me, and I hit it hard. Though it knocked the wind from my lungs, the impact didn't break anything. I skid across the floor for a few inches on some slime before coming to an abrupt stop.

Instantly, I curled up with my hands over my head and neck.

Half a foot of clearance—maybe, it was hard to tell through half-opened eyes. If I was Wolf's size, I would have been struck by its underbelly. There was plenty of room between left and right legs, given I wasn't lying horizontally. As it was, I was curled into the fetal position and was spared being crushed to death.

Half a second passed and I decided I wasn't going to be flattened. I flipped over to my stomach, wincing against various new pains and several old ones. The thing was still charging, and I heard Wolf's bellows on the other side.

When my wits returned, my face burned with embarrassment and shame. I cursed under my breath and smacked the floor with my palm before scrambling up.

_Shoulda cut the thing open! Like in the movies!_

Soon as the thought crossed my mind, I remembered the whole _acid for blood_ bullshit. That wasn't something I particularly wanted to bathe in, and it probably wasn't why Wolf threw me—almost literally—under the bus.

While the Echo was busy trying to pound Wolf into the ground with its massive forelegs, I looked for an opening I could use.

It wasn't after me, so I now had the advantage of being behind it.

One step. . .another. . .another. . .inching my way to the Echo's exposed back. I leaned down to pick up my blade again, having dropped it sometime after landing. My throat and mouth were dry, tongue thick in my mouth. I had to grip the hilt tighter to keep it from slipping in my sweaty palms. All of Wolf's slapdash tutelage went out the window and I fell back to what was comfortable.

Swinging a bat.

Wolf gained ground with a couple of well-placed shots from his shoulder cannon and the Echo took a massive step back, screeching. I lost my nerve and stumbled away, barely dodging its swinging tail as it tried to balance.

When I stood again, I took four or five quick breaths.

 _Don't lose focus. Don't let fear win. Just_ go.

After one last breath, I rushed in. Wolf lost ground and the Echo moved forward. His blade met hard talons in a solid clash, but it all dimmed as my adrenaline spiked. My vision tunneled.

Its tail swung and startled me. I lashed out of surprise, swinging with both hands even though I knew Wolf would be pissy about it later. Right then, all that mattered was results—and that was just what I got. The business end of my sword sliced through skin and bone. My raised arms shielded my face from any blood droplets, and if they ate through my sleeves I didn't feel it.

 _I did it!_ I thought for a brief moment, watching the tail twitch and jump. It only lasted a second, and then fell still.

The Echo snarled and tried to turn around, only to wedge itself between the walls. It scrabbled for purchase, sending out its pulses to see where I was. I fell as far back as I dare: it was lashing its tail all around with its flailing, threatening me with a spray of acid.

Though the beast was stuck, I couldn't get anywhere near it with that bleeding tail on my side of the hallway.

Wolf attacked from his end, but all it did was spur the Echo onward. It popped free at last—and was facing me. My heart fell into my shoes. I could put up bravado when the creature wasn't looking right at me, but all my courage fled when three tons of beast were coming my way.

I held my ground for all of two seconds, trying to find the nerve that would make Wolf proud, but I couldn't dig deep enough.

So I turned tail and ran.

Without a real sense of direction, all I could do was try to weave and wind through the curves and forks. All the while, the Echo screamed after me. I imagined I could feel its hot breath on the back of my neck, but wasn't even sure if it breathed in the traditional sense. They didn't seem to take issue with the ship's atmosphere or the mountain's.

But I ran—kicking myself all the while. I kept telling myself that I couldn't do much when up against a monster four times my size. I was so small, and all I had was one slashing weapon.

I was fast, though. Small enough to navigate the halls. The Echo kept slamming into things. Kept slowing down. However, I seemed to pass an invisible threshold where things in the ship still worked. Working red lights became intermittent. Some were off, others flickered—until I was completely in darkness and running blind, hardly able to see three feet in front of me.

Part of me wanted to slow down, play it safe. But if I slowed down, even a little, the Echo might be right on top of me in an instant.

Unlike me, it could see in pitch black.

Instead, I held my free hand out to my side, dragging my fingertips along the side of the corridors. I was trying to give myself at least a fair bit of warning before I ran into something. For the most part, I could see the walls about three seconds before I hit them and alter course instead of breaking my nose.

Wolf was in pursuit as well, but he wasn't firing his weapon. Had to save the ammunition and use it sparingly, I presumed.

Around one sharp corner, maybe two minutes into running for my life, I couldn't turn fast enough and bounced into the next stretch, almost losing my footing. I scrambled to stay upright and managed somehow, still losing a few precious seconds. The echolocation pulses assaulted my ears.

And then the world fell out from underneath me.

This time, I didn't have the grace to hold in a scream as I went plummeting down. There were only a few seconds of free fall before I landed on the inclined floor and skidded the rest of the way down. All I could see was darkness at my feet, so I had no idea where the end was. If there was one.

I fell maybe five feet before I hit the bottom and collapsed in a heap on the ground, face down. I recovered as fast as I could and looked around on my hands and knees. I couldn't keep running forever—I was on my last legs, lungs burning and muscles shuddering in protest. The fall had knocked the wind out of me again and I wasn't sure how much longer I could go.

Somehow the ship had been snapped in half, and it had left an electrical mess on the inside. I scrambled over to the nearest wall, still clinging to my weapon, and shoved myself inside the first hole I found. I had to push wires and tubing out of the way and squeeze between metal panels, but I did it.

Jammed in good, I backed the rest of the way in as far as I thought I could go and held my weapon in front of me. I didn't have much maneuverability, but I could still jab if I needed to.

Seconds later, the Echo went rushing passed, screeching all the while. I held my breath and ceased all movement, afraid that even the slightest shift would bring it back for me. Would allow it to discover my location and drag me out.

But it went by without incident, and I allowed myself a brief sigh of relief. I started to wiggle my way free so I could meet Wolf before he ran ahead without me.

I grunted and tried to push a panel out of my way, and something above me clanked against metal. First I was taken by surprise, then I froze. My breath stuck in my throat, but after a second it seemed the sound had gone unnoticed and I went back to freeing myself.

When I turned my head to check my progress, something moved at the entrance. I stopped to watch, hoping it was Wolf.

All that was there was black. And then it moved.

Lips peeled back over teeth and I let out a shriek of surprise, crawling back into the hole I'd been working so hard to get out of. The Echo used its powerful forelimbs to pull the wall apart, using each structural flaw to pry pieces away and make the entrance wider. I worked double time to shimmy through the tiny breach, doing my best to ignore the sounds it made. In the small space, I thought my eardrums might shatter if it went on any longer.

Somehow I was making better progress than the Echo. I managed to find a wide enough space to turn around in and buried myself deeper into the inner machinations of the ship. At some point, a change happened in the cries, but I pushed everything away except the thoughts that drove me onward.

_Escape. Get away. Deeper, deeper._

When the sounds petered out and were replaced by silence—save for the sound of me rooting around like a rat—I finally paused. It wasn't trying to burrow after me anymore. Nothing shifted in the small tunnel I had made.

I counted to ten.

Then started over and went up to fifteen.

Again—to twenty.

There was nothing, and then there was the encouraging chittering from Wolf. My fear melted away to an almost incapacitating relief. I relaxed to the point where I was lying on my face on the floor. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and started to crawl _back out_.

_Again._

But something stopped me. A small tickle on my face, down my partially zipped jacket. My eyes widened and I held my hand out, twisting it around until I felt it again.

A breeze.

Cold air.

Again Wolf called out to me. I was maybe thirty feet into the hull of the ship, and I looked over my shoulder to see if I could spot him, but all I saw was broken bits of metal and circuitry. I contemplated for a moment, chewing on my lip, then turned back and continued toward the breeze.

I had to try.

I had to know.

Behind me, Wolf still chattered and called out. I forced myself to ignore him, if only for a few more minutes. All I needed to do was check it out. That's all. It would be okay, everything would be okay if I could just _know._ Know that—that—

It took a lot of doing, a lot of squeezing. I tore my jacket more, but it was just a thing. A material that could be replaced. Eventually, I saw a light. A dim light, a gray light, but it was there. It wasn't the ambient red of the hallways and rooms. The cool breeze washed over me and excitement had me giddy. I choked back a jubilant squeal.

The hole was right there. The cold breeze turned into a frozen chill and snow drifted in, making a light dust. I grabbed at it greedily and pulled myself out from under a chunk of metal like a desperate cat and popped out in front of the hole.

For a few minutes, the blinding light from outside left me sightless. I squinted against the glare of the outside world, but eventually my eyes adjusted and I was able to peer outside.

Dawn had almost passed. I worked to pull out my phone but grimaced when I twisted my arm the wrong way and sent a shrill pain through my burned skin. It took a moment to recover, then I used my other arm to retrieve my cell and check the time. There was less than an hour until Anderson's squad was due to check in.

Then all there would be was the time before they arrived. The nearest base was in Colorado Springs, a little more than two hours away by car.

If I could get out, though, I could go somewhere they'd find me. I could go home.

There was no way I could fit through the hole as it was. Maybe if I was five years younger it wouldn't be a problem, but it was too small now. Without thinking, I dove into the task of making it bigger. I tugged at the edges of the hole, trying to find a loose section, and managed to find a side that had some wiggle to it. I flipped over so I could kick it with both feet—over and over and over again until popped free.

Though I had to pull off some contortionist shit and nearly cut my side wide open, I was out. I fell into a shallow pile of snow and rolled a few feet down the hill. For a moment I didn't get up. I reveled in the cold snow. I laughed for several seconds before I sat up and looked around.

Trees. Tall mountain peaks above them. The wind made them sway and dance, whistling a faint tune as the breeze wound through their branches. Over my head, the sky was gray with clouds and small flakes of snow fell on my face. I closed my eyes and drank it all in, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

After a moment, I opened my eyes again and looked over at the massive ship. I stood and walked backward, trying to see where the stop of the ship was.

It had to be bigger than a cruise liner. Three—no four. It had to be bigger than four of them put together. More, even. From the angle of the ship, it seemed as though it had rammed nose-first into the hill and then snapped in the middle. The bow of the ship was embedded in the hill, and a small section hung down the side. Everything else was resting against the hill, as level as it was going to get. Navigating that part would be a lot of sloping passages.

Once I was over the scale of the ship, I whirled around to search for danger. There was nothing but quiet pine trees and the wind whipping around me. For the moment the cold was a welcome sensation compared to the stifling heat of the ship.

The snow had been falling all night and was up to my ankles. Had none of this happened, had we been wandering around the woods all night looking for something that didn't exist, my classmates and I very well could have been caught out. Lost and turned around while we tried to see in the dark and in a snow storm. If it wasn't the aliens, it would've been Mother Nature.

None of that mattered. The sun was on its way up and I could see. The storm had died down to a gentle snowfall. I could work with that. Maybe I didn't have a shirt on, but I still had my long underwear. I could zip up my jacket. After the night I'd been through, I could handle some cold seeping through the tears and nipping my skin.

I could walk back. Down the hill, that would be where I started. Or, or I could—

When I went to look at my phone, I realized it wasn't in my pocket. There was a moment of panic, and I fought my way up the distance I'd fallen, searching the snow along the way. I found my phone right at the entrance, buried a bit with a pile of IDs. I brushed the flakes away, put the IDs back in my pocket, and turned on the cracked phone screen.

Ten percent life.

One bar of signal.

My breathing deepened and my hands shook. I was almost unable to unlock the screen, but then remembered I didn't have to. I hit the emergency call button and dialed nine-one-one. The call screen started, and it announced that it was dialing.

_Dialing. . ._

_Dialing. . ._

_Dialing. . ._

Teeth grinding, I shook the phone and put it to my ear. There was no ringing. No dialing tone. There wasn't enough service to send a call out.

It brought frustrated tears to my eyes, but I wiped them away and tried my hand at unlocking the phone. After the fourth try, I managed to swipe the phone open. I went straight to the settings and turned on my GPS.

I found my search function and demanded that it find directions to my address. It was almost impossible for me to speak coherently enough for the speech-to-text function to understand me.

However, it wouldn't load the maps. There was no acknowledging ping; it brought up the internet connection error page instead. My phone no longer had a bar of signal, and the internet wasn't on. No Wi-Fi, no data, nothing. The panting turned into hyperventilating and I had to force myself to calm down. Nothing had changed, so there was no reason for me to freak out.

All I had to do was start walking. Head down the hill, find my bearings and figure out if I recognized anything that could lead me home. Or I could walk up the hill and see if I could pick up a better signal at high ground.

Eyes closed, I sat in the snow and tried to catch my breath. Up. Climb up and see if I could find reception. That's what I would do. _Make a plan, and stick to it._

Moments into the climb uphill, I heard a screech that had me right back on the defensive. It came from further downhill, and I threw myself prone, slowly raising my head to see what was there, but there was nothing.

No drones. No Echo. Just more hill and snow and trees. The cry must have come from inside the ship, further down.

All at once I remembered Wolf. Still inside, fighting to avenge his friends and kill off a growing infection. A fight I'd decided to be a part of. Now what was I doing? I'd taken the first chance that presented itself out of that hellhole. I had hidden away when danger came at me.

I'd ran.

At last the cold surpassed my threshold and I zipped my jacket up to my neck—but it stuck. I looked down to free the catch and found the dog tag chains bunched up under the horrible trinket Wolf had so thoughtfully made me.

He had recognized me, on some level, as being worth his time.

And what had I done?

Thrown it his face and retreated with my tail between my legs.

I looked over my shoulder at the woods. So quiet, so peaceful, while inside aliens killed each other and were hunted down. It would be so easy to walk away—to try and forget. But what waited for me? Chances are I'd wind up lost and die from exposure.

Maybe another drone would find me and I'd wind up back at square one.

_"Nichole wait!"_

The memory was like a punch in the gut. Jess' desperate voice, begging me to help Michelle.

My lip trembled and I stood up, grabbing the chestburster skull in my fist. Was I going to run away from another friend? Was I going to leave another behind to die while I fled to safety? Whether or not Wolf understood the concept, he was kind of a friend. A comrade, a companion.

Maybe running was the correct choice, but I didn't feel like it was the _right_ choice. Not after everything. It didn't sit well in my heart, and I didn't want to take the easy path anymore.

Once already tonight I had abandoned someone I cared about. Maybe Wolf wasn't my best friend, maybe I hadn't known him for forever, but he'd been there for me. Out of convenience at first, sure. Maybe he'd seen something in me I hadn't. Maybe he'd just wanted the company. I didn't fully understand his motivations, but he'd _been there_.

After staring at my phone for a second or two, I shut it off to conserve battery. With a new sense of resolve, I stuffed it back into my pocket with the other stuff shoved there. I started down the hill, trudging through the ankle-deep snow and backtracking the short distance I'd gone.

_When the first drone found you in that egg chamber, he was there._

Faced with the hole back into the ship, I crawled in before I could talk myself out of it. I left the forest behind in exchange for the dark alien ship. I left the cold behind in exchange for the wet heat of the interior. This time, I was careful of the jagged pieces that had nearly sliced me open on the way out. I had a clearer head on me.

My blade was abandoned inside, but it was still close enough to the escape hole that I was able to find it with the light. I made a mental promise to never drop it again. With it in hand, I began my journey to the ship proper.

_After another drone attacked you and Simmons, he was there._

Navigating the path I'd made was easier now that I wasn't scared out of my mind. I was able to wiggle my way around until the light from outside faded back into the pitch. There was nothing waiting for me at the entrance, now shredded wide open by the Echo. No calls from Wolf, no shuffling or searching.

I didn't let it bother me, certain that I could find him. After all, he would have gone after the Echo, so he probably didn't climb up the drop I'd fallen from.

_When you found my friends and begged him to lead them out, he'd been there._

Finally, I broke out into the hallway, no worse for the wear. I shivered as a glob of snow melted and slid down my back, but already the overwhelming humidity had chased away the chill from being outside. I stood on slightly unsteady feet, then took off at a jog down the hallway.

_Every time you suffered a major injury, he was there._

It was my turn to be there. It was my turn to go back and make sure a friend was okay. It was my turn to show a little integrity and loyalty. If anything, I just wished I could have been there for Jess when it had really mattered. That I could have found this side of me when it had counted.

The smallest of voices told me I was being ridiculous. Told me that I should follow my instincts and run, run, run and never look back.

But the outside world would still be there when this was over. It wasn't going anywhere.

I had to prove—to myself and to Wolf—that I was the warrior he thought I was. That I was worth the praise he'd given me. That I was greater than the sum of my parts. No more running. No more fear. I could do it. I had to do it.

And so I went trudging through with a purpose again.

At first, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to find Wolf again. I trotted down the halls blind as a bat, using my fingertips against the walls for guides yet again. I can't imagine he would have waited long for me. Had he figured out I'd found an escape? Maybe he thought I'd gotten stuck and couldn't get out. Who knew if he'd even gone in the direction I was headed.

I didn't think he would have scaled the drop, not when we'd been traveling the way I'd fled in the first place. Even if he had, I never would have been able to climb back up.

When I was certain that I couldn't hear the Echo, I started calling for him.

"Wolf? Wolf!" I kept my voice down to a harsh whisper and waited for several beats between calls to make sure I heard a reply.

My bravado was starting to wear out the longer I went without finding him. As I'd thought, the ship was slanted and I was finding it more and more difficult to continue at a brisk pace. I had to slow down to ensure that I didn't keep falling down.

At a long stretch of hallway, I caught distinct movement. It was a shadow within a shadow, and I froze to watch it, afraid that it was maybe one of the parasitic aliens. The Echo, a drone. . . . My eyes were wide open, trying their hardest to pick up any light. I resisted the urge when my fingers twisted to grab my phone. Use the flashlight. . . .

What harm would it do, though? I only had ten percent battery, maybe, but what else was I going to use the phone for? So long as I was careful, I just needed a small burst of light.

So I pulled it out, turned it on, waited a minute for it to warm up, then quickly flashed the light down the hall. It illuminated almost the entire passageway and I flinched at the sudden brightness, but I, sure enough, spotted the familiar humanoid form of Wolf.

I sighed with relief and jogged toward him at him at an angle, bracing myself against the wall.

"Wolf! Wolf there you are. I got stuck, and—"

My words were met with an unfamiliar growl and I stopped short. Almost instantly my heart was in my throat, beating a mile a minute. The color drained from my face.

He turned toward me and a set of three dots appeared on my chest.

As I held up my sword with trembling hands, I took a step back. The alien in front of me advanced again, and I found my voice.

"You're not Wolf!"


	14. Serpentine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it's been almost a year because I'm trash and couldn't get anymore edits done. I only have one chapter for you today, but I'm pretty sure I'll have the rest of this revised and posted in the next few months. Thanks for the patience.

I realized how it must look to him, me carrying Wolf's weapon. He would think I'd stolen it, maybe even killed him for it. Now I was armed and potentially dangerous. A threat he had to neutralize before things turned sour.

And without Wolf there, I couldn't even properly explain.

"Wah—wait. . . ." I couldn't breathe; my mouth bobbed as the strange humanoid studied me. The cannon on his shoulder whirred to life and I readied myself to spring. "Just-just hold on. . . ."

When I heard the blast of his weapon, I hit the ground. However, it was an unneeded gesture: his shot veered way off target and blasted the ceiling above me instead. I covered my head with my hands as some debris rained down on me, but I was largely unharmed. I was somewhat surprised that I was still in one piece, but alright nonetheless. I scrambled up, trying to ready myself for further attacks.

An argument had broken out, and I recognized one of their voices.

Still, I moved slowly as I rose to my feet, trying not to look threatening. I picked up my phone and put it in my pocket, making a mental note to turn it off when I was next able.

Wolf had arrived at some point—or maybe had always been there—and was probably the reason the shot missed me by such a margin. I kept quiet while they had their discussion, but at some point the other humanoid had decided he wasn't buying what Wolf was selling and he marched down the hall toward me. My first instinct was to raise my weapon in defense, but I lowered it just as fast, afraid I'd make my situation worse.

My companion kept pace and shoved the new guy against the wall. The other one shoved back and before I knew it, they were chest-to-chest, growling and posturing.

All I could do was watch, unsure if I should say anything. "Um. . . ."

After the initial bout, they rough-housed for a moment, pushing and chattering, and then they parted and the new humanoid turned his gaze toward me. Like Wolf, he sported a similar, impassive mask. The color drained from my face: I was not liking the way he clicked thoughtfully.

He faced me in full and I flinched at the sound of wrist blades springing from his gauntlet. I looked from him to Wolf and swallowed. Wolf was at ease, watching and muttering.

Though I waited for an explanation, neither even made an attempt to communicate.

There wasn't much time for me to think. I barely had enough time to bring my weapon up before the other alien swung his at me. The metal clashed and I stumbled back, but couldn't move well on the shallow incline, especially with my oversized boots. They had good traction, though, so I didn't slip, but that was the only grace allotted to me.

Despite the strength behind it, I had seen Wolf move faster and hit harder. There was no malice or ill intent in his attacks. He may have even been telegraphing them on purpose.

Still scared me shitless, being attacked by this big brute.

I parried another half-assed swing with little to no poise, then another, all the while I was backing uphill in an awkward crouched posture.

Again he swung, and this time I found the leverage to dive under his arm and scrambled around him mid-swing, tumbling my way to Wolf's side. He rattled in amusement and lifted his arm so I could duck behind him, but I stayed in front, unwilling to cower like a child.

Wolf growled at his friend and they had a short conversation far beyond my comprehension. My shoulders heaved with each breath, but the worst of it seemed to be over.

The other humanoid—I decided to call him Brutus—sheathed his wrist blade and came to stand a couple feet away. He harrumphed as if he wasn't really satisfied, but he wasn't trying to hurt me anymore so I guessed he'd come to terms that I was Wolf's plus one. He kept his shoulders squared to show his disdain, but said nothing on the matter.

He must have come from a hallway or a room behind Wolf, but they could have met up sometime during my crisis outside the ship. I simply had no way of knowing. Part of me thought it was the former, unless Wolf hadn't had time to mention me.

Or maybe he'd thought I'd run off for good, like I almost had.

"Nice to meet you, too," I said, feeling far more snarky than I had any right to.

Brutus snorted and shoved past us, Wolf pulling me out of his way before he could knock me down. I glared after the other guy, then glanced up at Wolf. My mouth opened so I could tell him thanks, but I changed my mind and shut it again.

I was lead down the hall, but didn't make it far before I had to skirt around a giant mass in the middle of the path. I stopped short, instantly on edge, but Wolf and Brutus merely wedged around it.

Despite my poor sight, I was able to decide what it was as I neared. It was a massive beast, and I could just make out the features of it when I stopped to look. Massive forearms, elongated head, an extra set of legs. . . . It was the Echo.

Wolf and Brutus had killed it.

For a moment I gawked unabashedly. It was completely lifeless, mouth open and acidic blood oozing from the open gash on its neck. There was only a few thin strands of sinew keeping the head attached to the shoulders.

A clean kill. It must have found Brutus up ahead, and then Wolf came in from behind. The Echo wouldn't have stood a chance against a sneak attack from its back.

Out of nowhere, I felt a pang of—jealously? Envy? I wasn't sure what it was burning in my chest and knotting my stomach. Maybe disappointment, regret. All four, maybe. I had missed it all—the fight, a chance to participate and make up for running with my tail between my legs.

Now it was all over and—

From down the hall came a set of hisses. I forgot my wallowing and squeezed around the Echo, keeping an eye on it just in case it could still snap even when missing its head. Like a snake.

When I squeezeed out on the other side, Brutus and Wolf were side by side, facing into the darkness. From it came a handful of bugs, crawling on the walls and toward us on the floor. All of us tensed for a fight, but the bugs came to a slow halt.

Their cries started, then built up, and I was certain they were going to attack. I steadied my shaking hands.

All at once, they cut off. A second later, another cry rose from the depths. The alien bugs froze, then backed away, hissing all the while. I waited for them to go, or to come back with greater numbers, but the two aliens in front of me seemed to relax, so I did too.

After a few seconds of nothing, the two proceeded forward. Wolf glanced over his shoulder to check on me, but I was chugging along like an obedient puppy.

I was still sour about the Echo, but I'd forgotten about the queen of the hive. She still needed to be killed, as did all of her drones and warriors. I'd have a shot at proving myself again. This time I wasn't going to chicken out and take off running.

At least, that was the plan.

*:･ﾟ✧

The queen's angry and commanding screeches were growing closer and closer, and the halls were beginning to take a different shape. The lights were still out, but Wolf kept near enough that I could see him and travel safely. Occasionally, though, I would become uneasy—restricted sight and a downhill crawl didn't go together—and brace myself against him.

If he minded, he didn't make it obvious.

Brutus walked in front of us, seven or eight paces ahead. He never once looked back in our direction, nor did he attempt to speak with Wolf again.

 _Let him brood,_ I thought bitterly. What did I care if he was happy about me being there?

As the ambiance of the ship transformed into a resin-coated hive, I knew we had to be nearing the queen's lair. They had covered every inch of the halls with the stuff, creating intricate biomechanical niches, edges, and narrow folds. It made our trip far more claustrophobic than it had been. I hadn't thought it possible, but it was even more muggy than before. Whatever the aliens used to create the crust, it retained heat and moisture like nothing I knew.

Though the slime was, by nature, slippery, the dry and solid resin as well as the traction of my boots kept me from sliding all over the place. I tried not to rely too heavily on Wolf as a support pillar, but I was also trying to stay close. Those things could be anywhere and I wouldn't be able to see them.

However, we made our final approach down a straight, endless hallway without running into anymore of the parasites since the one group had retreated.

"What's the plan?" I whispered, holding my weapon close to my chest.

Wolf turned, then growled and pulled me by the wrist until I was back in position.

"Stop that!" I groaned, pulling away.

He chittered a sharp reprimand, and then he cuffed my ear with an open palm. It wasn't particularly painful, but entirely irritating.

I grunted and swung my arm into the right position. "Stop hitting me!"

There was another moment while we just stared at each other—well I glared, I had no real idea what he was doing with his face, if he had one—then he nodded his approval and turned away from me. Brutus had stopped to watch, and after a moment, he turned back to the path ahead. Soon as both of their backs were turned, I waved my middle finger at them. One of these times I was going to smack him back, but for the time being I figured it wasn't in my best interest.

Well, I'd just have to focus all of that anger on the _other_ aliens on this ship. The ones that we were actively trying to kill.

"Do you even know where we're going?" I demanded instead.

Though he didn't look back at me, he just lifted his hand and motioned for me to keep walking. My shoulders slumped and I sighed. I'd just have to be patient, but that was a commodity I was running low on. I was tired, every single part of my body hurt, and I was emotionally spent.

_Just a little bit longer. Kill the queen and the warriors and it'll all be over._

And then what? Go home? Shake hands with the aliens, then walk off and wait for the military to show up and take me away?

There wasn't anything left back home except angry parents and isolation.

Without realizing it, I'd spaced out. It wasn't until I ran into a stationary Wolf that I snapped out of my reverie. I looked up sharply and looked around for the danger, but Wolf was standing stock still, staring down the hall.

"What—" He cut me off with a sharp gesture and I pursed my lips.

After a moment I realized that the screeching had stopped. Silence weighed down upon us, and all I heard was my erratic pulse roaring in my ears.

Apprehension returned and I started to lift the blade up to my chest. When Wolf turned his head a few centimeters, as if to watch me, I blushed and lowered it again. I had to force myself to relax and not close up like fear wanted me to.

Another brief moment and the three of us were moving forward again. Wolf extended his wrist blades and moved with calculated steps, slow and prepared. Brutus was walking closer to us now, his own weapon drawn and stance low as he stalked forward. Wolf pushed me in front so I was between him and Brutus, though I didn't feel safe there, either.

It's the thought that counts, I supposed.

Wolf leaned in close, then indicated to a barely visible opening in the wall. A spot of darkness within darkness—a door. I shifted to see it better, then looked up at Wolf and nodded to let him know I saw it. He turned away again, and this time he completely disappeared from view.

My stomach dropped to my feet and I looked to Brutus for a sign, but he was already hiding in plain sight, invisible to me.

"Where'd you—don't leave me." I was sickened with how pathetic I sounded.

From across the hall I saw a flash of light—like a pair of eyes in the dark.

Not leaving, just out of sight.

I let out my breath in relief and quietly inched toward the opening. The closer I was to it, the more I realized that it wasn't like the others, but a large bay door big enough to drive a car through. It was bent in the middle, one side completely torn out, as if something had broken it. I wondered if the Echo had done it or something else, but the gap was just big enough for it.

It reminded me of the hole I'd crawled out of to get outside. There had to be others like that, and like this one. That was how these things had been escaping the ship.

Mine had been too small, but somewhere on the huge ship had to be some the right size.

Though I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing, I inched to the door and peered inside. It was just as dark as the rest of this section of the ship, maybe darker. Their resin seemed to absorb light. Still, I could make out the sounds of movement and a shadow shifted inside.

After a moment of contemplation and hesitation, I pulled out my phone and flipped on the flashlight. Six percent battery. My phone buzzed to remind me and I grimaced at my own thoughtlessness. I should have turned it off earlier, but I'd forgotten during my encounter with Brutus. So long as I had enough to make a call, I was probably okay.

A few seconds of flashlight wouldn't break my battery, so I went ahead with my plan and shone my light into the room. It was too big for the flashlight to penetrate every corner and crevice, but I could see enough, and the room seemed to be a sort of loading bay.

My eyes were drawn to a small scout ship parked on the side, almost completely concealed by the weird crust the aliens made. Movement caught my attention and I swept the light toward the middle of the room. There didn't seem to be much else to look at; the bay had been converted into the perfect nesting ground for the damn things and was otherwise empty.

Dead center in the room sat a huge beast. It looked just like the hologram that Wolf had shown me, with a hide of pitch black. It was so much larger than I had imagined, as was its grotesque egg sack. The sack itself was held up by strong strings of taut gum, and the eggs were deposited in a neat pile. There were three right off the bat, but a drone soon trotted by and shuffled it away before heaving it onto its back so it could carry it off.

The appearance of the drone surprised me. I moved my flashlight around the room and spotted a little less than a dozen of the things flitting around underneath the queen, like ants without order. She was perched on her ovipositor like it was some sort of throne, and her busy bee workers were swarming around to keep her safe.

For a moment I thought that maybe they knew we were coming, but upon closer inspection I realized there were two or three corpses among the throne room, as I decided to call it.

More of Wolf's kind, thinking they could take out the queen by themselves?

At first I didn't think she was awake, but then her large head swung and she snarled out something like a command. She sat high up on the egg sack, her crown nearly touching the ceiling despite how tall it looked from where I was. The group of drones ceased their aimless wandering and halted underneath their queen.

And they turned their heads toward the door—where I was standing.

I pulled away from the opening and pressed myself up against the wall, my eyes wide. Seconds later, a few drones squealed and hissed. However, I soon caught the sound of them pacing again. I hadn't yet been discovered.

Not only was the Queen huge, larger even than the Echo, but she had summoned so many things to protect her. She'd tired of Wolf's friends coming to kill her and had rallied the troops. How were we going to do it now? It had taken both Brutus and Wolf to kill an already-injured Echo, and now she had so many warriors at her beck and call.

There were three of us—two and a half, really—but maybe if we thought it through, maybe if we came up with some sort of plan, we'd be okay. Brutus hadn't looked too injured, but I hadn't really studied him that closely. Not that I would have been able to see much in the absolute dark.

"What are we going to do?"

Wolf offered no answer or insight, and when I glanced around to gauge his response, I remembered he was invisible so I wouldn't be able to.

Sighing, I turned on my flashlight to try to get one more look inside, but just as I did the doors slid open with a metallic grinding sound. The bits of bent metal scraped against the floor and I pulled my head away, gasping. I winced and recoiled away from the horrendous sound and flinched when sparks flew in my direction.

"A little warning would have been nice," I mumbled through clenched teeth.

The creatures inside responded to the noise with an uproar of screeches.

Still, Wolf felt no inclination to reveal himself and I wondered if I was supposed to be the bait again. I waited a few more seconds, then quickly dipped my head to take a quick peak with a single flash of light into the room. It was done and over with in a split second, leaving me with not much of a picture. However, I wasn't bombarded with angry cries, so I leaned in for a longer look.

Everything was turned to face the now-open door, but didn't seem particularly perturbed by my light. I froze in place, mouth slightly open, and there were a few moments where we were all just staring at each other.

I flit away from the doorway when things started to move.

My dying battery was not completely forgotten. I took a step back and turned my head slightly to the side, to where I thought Wolf was, and said, "I won't be able to see anything soon."

A disturbance drew my attention and I looked inside again. The Queen's lips pulled back into a silent snarl. The muscles in my legs tensed and my fingers tightened their grip on my weapon's hilt. I started to back away, but something shoved me hard enough to make me stumble away from the wall and into the room. My shoes scuffed the ground and I winched at the sound.

My eyes widened and I turned toward the source, even though he was invisible. "You son of a bitch, why—"

Brutus? Wolf? Who cared who did it, I was pissed.

Anything else I wanted to say was cut off by an outraged screech. It startled me and I jumped about ten feet in the air before I crouched down and held my weapon out. Apparently, all of those times getting smacked upside the head had the effect Wolf had desired, because I fell almost instinctively into the correct pose.

 _So, I've been demoted back to bait again._ Or maybe I'd never lost that title.

The drones swarmed, forming a barricade in front of their queen. They screeched and squealed, but didn't make an immediate move, just waited for a command. My phone buzzed in my hand again to tell me I was losing battery fast. I swallowed and lowered it a fraction of an inch.

"Please," I whimpered, deciding to stow my dying phone in my pocket. I needed that last bit of battery. "I need a new source of light. I can't—I can't see."

Under different circumstances I would have run for it. Every instinct I had was telling me to turn tail, but the dark was keeping my rooted. Besides, I wasn't alone. At the very most I'd be dealing with maybe two of these things, right? No way he'd make me fight them all off on my own.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins and sent my heart racing. Blood roared in my ears and I lifted my weapon just a little bit, preparing for them.

A blue light flashed by my head. It's heat brushed my cheek and its wake disturbed stray hairs on my head. I gasped and stumbled to the side, ducking down instinctively. The scouting ship off to the side exploded in a spray of sparks and blue flames, lighting up the room. What remained of the ship flickered with fire.

My light source.

Another bolt hit a drone, splattering it all over, and then one more fell to the same fate as they all reacted in kind, rushing toward us. It still left about seven, and they were now too close to make them _explode_ without dousing us in acid.

Then they were on us.

Wolf had already dispelled his cloak and was next to me, his wrist blades extended. I tried to match his confident posture, but I was trembling. Brutus had rushed forward and was knee-deep in a handful of drones by that time, slashing and cutting through any and all that dared come close to him with a fury I hadn't yet witnessed from Wolf.

If there had been any doubt in my mind that he'd been pulling his punches earlier, when he'd tested me, they were all gone now.

The first drone reached me and I swung, just how Wolf had shown me. I didn't have enough force being it to do much beside lodge my blade into the drone's hardened skull. It's momentum carried it to slam directly into my side, driving the air from my lungs, and I was thrown across the floor with enough force to wrench my blade free of its head.

I couldn't maneuver into a slashing position, and I didn't want to stab it again, not after the last time. Instead, I twisted myself around to slam the hilt of my blade against the creature's head. The hard chitin remained strong, but adrenaline had mustered enough strength to send it reeling.

With its weight sort of lifted off of me, I was able to move my legs up to kick the monster off me with both feet. It screeched and tumbled away, already off-balance from the blow to the head.

Before I could stand, I spotted another drone bearing down on me. I let out a frustrated sound and struck blindly, in terrible technique, and caught the drone across the chest with my blade. It staggered back, tail lashing and acid blood sloshing from the wound. It gave me just enough time to shift into a crouch, but only barely.

Both drones were already recovered. They screeched and advanced on me, driving me back a couple of steps. One lunged through the air while the other was slinking toward me on the ground. I tried to time the first drone's landing, then started swinging.

Something else hit it, driving it sideways through the air. It squealed in surprise as it flew out of my line of sight. I backpedalled along the wall, collecting a sense of security by having it at my back, and searched for the second drone. When I couldn't immediately find it, I started to panic. Another quick scan revealed that Wolf had a hold of it by the tail. He swung it around, slammed it into a drone in mid-leap, then killed both with one shot from his shoulder-mounted cannon.

So then what happened to—

A snapping sound caught my attention and I looked over sharply. A few yards away, there was a broken net and a bleeding alien. A grid-patterned wound was etched across its hard head, shaped oddly like the net. I assumed it was made of something like razor wire, and it obviously hadn't been made to use on the aliens. Not like our acid-proof blades.

I turned to check on Wolf, but he was locked in combat with the last two. As much I wanted to watch his fight, the checkered drone was coming for me. I widened my stance and waited for it to come, but it stopped short when a shrill cry pierced the room.

Startled, I pressed myself against the wall and stared at the drone as it backed away, lips drawn back and tail lashing. I didn't tear my eyes off of it until it slunk away behind the agitated queen. When I was certain it wasn't going to attack, I searched for my two allies.

They were trying to keep their enemies from regrouping, and Wolf used his spear as a projectile to kill the last of his group as it retreated.

There was only a few drones left, including the one I had let fall back to the queen. The last two were with Brutus, who had a pile of alien corpses at his feet. Before they could regroup with the queen, he ended them with his shoulder-mounted cannon, then discarded it.

Out of ammo.

The queen tossed her head and roared, a sound that struck me to my core and set my limbs to trembling. It seemed the very ground vibrated. If I hadn't already had my back against the wall, I would have tried to retreat.

Brutus backed to Wolf's side. They'd tried to use their numbers, but the two aliens on my side had proved that to be useless. With her army dwindled, she was left with no choice.

Squealing, she used her powerful back legs to shove herself away from her egg sack. It squelched and spilled copious amounts of slime across the ground. She landed heavily in front of it, standing straight and baring her fangs at us. Her tail swung in a wide arch, knocking over a piece of equipment.

She stood erect, like a t-rex. Solid and lithe.

After a pause where we sized each other up, she roared an angry challenge and charged.


	15. Able to Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> Here's another batch of chapters/edits! Got four of them for you, today. Been having a really rough week and pretty much the entire month of May was awful but that's alright, I kept at it so I could get all this stuff out to you today. Hope you guys enjoy some binge reading! I'll be posting something new for y'all after I update this, as well, so look forward to that. ;)
> 
> ~ Crayola

Even with Wolf and his friend nearby, it was still hard not to run from the behemoth charging at us. My legs jerked, trying to make me move, but it was like being stuck in the headlights of a semi-truck. I couldn't move, even as the Queen came closer and closer to trampling me.

A strong hand gripped the back of my jacket and yanked me to the side, tearing the fabric. It almost wasn't strong enough to hold.

I stumbled toward Wolf, pulled slightly off of my feet. The Queen charged passed us and slammed head-first into the wall behind us. The wall dented with the impact, but the Queen kept her footing and staggered for a moment, trying to turn around while dazed.

Wolf spun me around and set me up straight on my feet. When he let go of me, I struggled to keep my balance, then took a breath.

Had to focus.

Life or death here.

Brutus smacked me on the bad shoulder, snarling, and I nearly buckled from the pain. Teeth grinding, I hunched over and tried not to collapse. The meaning was clear—I was being reprimanded. He didn't want me to drag them down. To drag Wolf down.

The Queen finally regained her composure and turned to us, black hide tinted orange by the ship burning in the corner.

"What's the plan?" I asked, glancing at Wolf from the corner of my eyes.

His response was to cloak. My jaw nearly hit the floor and I turned, looking wildly around for him or Brutus, but they were both gone. I took a few fearful steps back, but I felt Wolf's hand grip my arm and steady me. He was with me. I only took a little bit of solace in that fact.

My breathing started to come more rapidly, close to hyperventilating. I knew I was bait but did I really have to be bait _now_? Couldn't these things still tell they were around even when invisible?

The air rippled as Wolf took off somewhere. At first, I thought I would have to deal with the Queen alone, but she turned her head sharply to follow him, and then stomped in the same direction, screeching in a challenge.

_So. . .wait. What now? What was the point!_

Something threw its weight into me and I screamed despite myself. The floor came up hard and I slammed into it, driving the air from my lungs. My head smacked hard onto the crust-covered floor and stars broke out across my vision.

_One of the drones! How could I be so stupid?_

I fought to focus my mind and blink the blurriness out of my eyes. A headache had already exploded in my skull, making my pulse throb against my temples. Now was not the time to succumb to pain. I had to stand, I had to fight—

When I tried to shift my weight onto my knees, something yanked on my ankle and I sprawled out again, slamming my shoulder into the ground to keep from landing on my chest. Before I could figure out a way to get the upper hand and turn the tables, I was being dragged across the floor. Just out of reach was my weapon, moving farther and farther away.

"No no no no no no!" I used my free leg and leveraged against the floor to fling myself forward. However, my palms slapped against the empty surface and my weapon was left behind.

Somehow I managed to push down the growing panic. I grit my teeth and turned enough to see the drone. It was dragging me over to a stack of eggs; one last ditch effort to bolster the ranks. Then I didn't have much time. I flipped over and kicked at the bug's claws until I landed a blow hard enough for its spindly fingers to recoil and let me go.

I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could and made a bee-line for my weapon. Though I slipped a few times on wet slime, I kept moving forward. When it was within reach, I dove on top of it, but the drone pounced on me as well and I caught a glance of a green checker-patterned wound.

Its weight forced my body flat, but at least I had the blade. I fumbled with it, trying to grab the hilt, but the drone was scratching and screeching in my ears, shattering my concentration.

When it started to pull me away again, I grabbed any part of the weapon I could and swung backward at an awkward angle. It caught the creature in the arm and cleaved it straight off, but the blade bit into my palm and I dropped it almost immediately, hissing through clenched teeth. As quickly as I dropped it, though, I scooped it back up by the hilt and tried to ignore the blood seeping down my wrist and the stinging pain in my palm.

Checkers—as I dubbed the bug hassling me—hissed and squealed, pulling its stubby arm against its chest. I stood, holding up my weapon, and waited for its move. Acid blood dripped copiously from the wound I'd made, and I wasn't keen on going anywhere near that.

While neither of us made a move, I took quick stock of what was going on around me. No more drones around, just Checkers. The rest had teamed up with the Queen to try and combat Wolf and Brutus. The parasites were on the ropes, the number of drones down to Checkers and two others. There wasn't much else I could glean without taking my eyes completely off my opponent.

Fangs bared at me, my opponent lashed its tail behind it. When it tried to approach, I moved back. Checkers screeched and lashed out at me with its tail. I had barely enough time to recoil away from the barbed tip, swinging my blade at the same time out of instinct. I jumped away when a chunk of tail skittered across the floor.

The drone screeched in pain and withdrew, giving me a chance to move in with my blade up. Checkers lifted its slick head and wailed, flinging its tail around. Blood arched through the air and I hit the ground, ducking under the blood and gasping. I wriggled to avoid any more splashes, but my pant leg started to hiss and smoke. I used my weapon to cut the piece off and flung it as far as it would go, clenching my fist after accidentally touching part of it. My fingertips burned, but not near as bad as my shoulder had.

I rubbed them on the ground, using the slime to soothe the burn, and tried to keep my head up to keep track of my opponent. Checkers seemed just as wary of approaching me as I was it. Its nub tail was poised over its body as if it had realized it could keep me away with the mere threat of being sprayed with acid.

With neither of us wanting to move in closer, we were at an impasse. I had to find some way to kill it, though, so I could go help Wolf—and Brutus, I supposed. Every time I glanced in their direction, it seemed like they were evenly matched with the Queen. They had managed somehow to move out of that corner, and the Queen was caught between the two predators, trying to decide which of the two to focus on, only to have the other cut in.

It seemed like she might have even been limping. In any case, she was unhappy and screeching her malcontent with each blow received.

My pulse was beating against my skull and chest, but the adrenaline kept me thinking at least semi-clearly. I edged around the drone, glancing at my surroundings. There had to be something I could use, anything. The scout ship was still burning, but the edges of the room were still in darkness. Any lighting was better than nothing, though.

Behind all the fear and determination was the intense want to call out for Wolf. I stopped myself several times, though my jaw worked up and down. He had his own problem. Bigger problems.

I could handle this drone. . .I just had to figure it out.

But how was I going to kill it if I couldn't get close to it? How did it expect to do the same?

For a brief moment, I thought about throwing my weapon at it. Maybe I'd impale Checkers and be done. However, I didn't trust myself not to miss and once disarmed, that would be the end of it. It wasn't the kind of gamble I wanted to make.

We circled each other like two cats. One of us was going to have to break the cycle. Why did I have the feeling it was going to be me?

A distraction came from across the room. Wolf's roar echoed through the big room and I turned to look—he was on the floor, but at least trying to jump to his feet. The Queen was opposite him, about ten yards, and had Wolf's wrist blades stuck in her crest, torn straight out of his gauntlet. He wasn't unarmed, at least, with his large spear in hand. Brutus was on the Queen's back, keeping her from descending upon Wolf.

Screeching turned me back to my own fight. It startled me into taking a step backward; Checkers was coming at me. The thing knew I had been distracted, and it took its chance. I had enough time to fall on my ass before it was on top of me. I cried out and thrust my weapon upward, chipping off Checkers' shoulder spine, but it twisted and wrenched the blade from my hand.

It skidded across the ground, bouncing onto a piece of machinery.

"Shit!" I spat out.

The thing scraped its claws across my face and I cried out in pain, kicking wildly. I managed to land a lucky blow and sent the thing reeling, but before I could scramble to my feet and get to the weapon, it jumped on top of me again. Snarling, I groped around with one hand while using the other to push the drones head away from my face and came up with nothing but a handful of dried-up slime. I pulled the fistful of crust away from the ground, then shoved it hard into the drone's mouth.

Checkers reared back, scrabbling at its mouth with its one good hand. I slipped out from under it and sprinted in the direction my weapon had flown. I knew that little stunt wasn't going to keep Checkers at bay for long—I could already hear its heavy footfalls behind me—but I prayed it would be long enough. Prayed that I was fast enough.

I was within reach. I fell to my knees and picked it up. Just as soon as it was in my hand, I swung backward in a wild arch. Checkers screamed and I heard the sound of tearing flesh. I was on my feet, turned to face it. The drone had a new cut on his head, and he was backing up.

No more playing chicken. I lunged toward Checkers as it swung its tail, but by now the blood had clotted and no acid splashed at me. Putting all my weight into this one lunge, I drove the blade through the top of the drone's head, all the way up to the hilt. It slumped almost immediately and I crouched there on my knees, panting, still holding the blade.

There wasn't enough time in the world to catch my breath. The Queen was making a terrible cacophony of noises—not that she hadn't been this whole freaking time—and I frantically searched around for where everyone was.

Sometime during my kill, the Queen had dislodged Brutus from her back and was bearing back down on Wolf. I didn't even know where Brutus was, just that he was no longer on the Queen.

It didn't seem like he was making any progress. Wolf was dodging her tail and leaping out of the way of her jaws. It was like an awkward dance—one would make a move, the other would trot out of the way. She was missing a chunk of her crown and Wolf was bleeding from a deep puncture in his shoulder. I was glad that I had decided not to call out to him for help.

There was the fact that Brutus probably would have killed me outright if I had, too. He had made it clear that I was not to be a hindrance.

And if I wanted to avoid that and get off this ship anytime soon, I'd have to do my job.

I looked around, then yanked my blade out from where it was stuck. It took a few times with me throwing my entire weight into it, but eventually, it pulled free and I stumbled back. Catching myself, I made a furtive run around the sides of the room.

What better shot did I have at distracting the Queen than by destroying her brood?

It was the only thing I could think to do, at least. It wasn't going to pay me any attention when Wolf and Brutus were a bigger threat. If anything else, I would be doing the lord's work by destroying those stupid eggs.

So, carefully, I made my way toward the gathered eggs. Checkers had tried so hard to bring me over there, now I was doing it voluntarily.

Brutus had returned to my field of vision, sporting a heavy limp. Dutifully, though, he charged the Queen and joined the fray with Wolf—only to be smacked back across the room post haste by the queen's thrashing tail.

Nothing I could do except hope my plan worked.

At first, I wasn't sure what the most effective way of doing it was, but then I decided egg massacre didn't have to be pretty. I started hacking, chopping, and slicing my way through the eggs, but when I didn't immediately hear an outraged scream from the Queen, I stopped in mid-chop and looked up to see what was so much more important than the mutilation of her offspring.

Wolf went sliding across the ground and I made a startled sound somewhere between a scream and being choked. The Queen followed after him while snarling, and I stood up a little straighter.

"Hey! Hey, bitch!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, jumping up and down. She squealed and turned to face me, body heaving with the effort of coming to a sudden stop. Her unseeing head extended slightly and she bared her fangs at me.

Her chest was heaving, and her lips were drawn back in a silent threat. I stared back, suddenly unsure of where I was going with this, partially frozen under her gaze.

So I just chopped another egg in half. Why stop now?

She reared back and let out a terrible cry of pain and anger that made me start violently. It was the kind of sound that filled me with dread and made my blood run cold. I had just made a terrible enemy—not that she wasn't already an enemy, but before it was just because I was _there._ Now I'd made her angry. Now I'd created some sort of grudge monster.

I stepped back and clutched my weapon—that suddenly felt tiny and useless in my hands—against my chest and tried not to tremble.

Her head swept right then left, as if taking in the rest of the eggs, and then she roared and charged me. My breath caught in my throat and I stumbled backward. I wound up tripping over an egg and fell flat on my ass.

Every uncertainty I'd felt, every insecurity, played across my mind. What was I doing? I wasn't a fighter. I wasn't some sort of warrior. When I played soccer I wasn't on the front lines, I was in the back between some goal posts. It was nothing short of a miracle that I had lasted this long. How was I going to fight this thing off?

There was no way I was going to be able to do this.

Why was I even trying? Now I was just going to get eaten, or skewered. . . .

She stopped at the edge of the egg nest she'd created and stepped around them, somehow still managing to bear down on me with all the power of a train. I lifted my weapon and readied to defend myself. I'd drive it into her skull or something. However, something snapped into view and wrapped around the Queen's arm. She was pulled into the ground and smashed into several of the eggs.

I had to leap to my feet and sprint out of the way to avoid being crashed into. Wolf was off to the side, holding a—was that a whip? He yanked on it hard and the Queen's arm came _clean off_. She screeched in pain and struggled to stand up. Meanwhile, Wolf flourished the whip, then cracked it when she turned her head toward him, slicing a deep gouge in her exposed throat. I thought for sure that would be a fatal blow, but she was on her feet.

And she was angry.

The Queen's tail arched and she turned slightly to the side, fighting range with range. She lashed out to stab at Wolf, but he moved back and snapped the whip, making her draw the appendage back with a fresh wound. If she hadn't swept it out of the way, he probably would have been sliced it off.

For a brief moment, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing. He seemed to have the upper hand now, though I wondered why he didn't just end it quick with that shoulder-mounted cannon. A closer look revealed that it was missing. Had he lost it one of those times he was laid out? Did he abandon it when it ran out of ammo?

I swept my gaze across the large room, looking for his cannon. I had to skulk around the edges, behind the eggs and sticking close to the wall. The Queen made it hard to see as she darted around, avoiding the bite of Wolf's whip.

Momentarily, I wondered if Brutus was alright.

But then I spotted it, near the center of the room. The occasional sparks had brought my attention to it, and that answered the question of whether or not it had been knocked off him.

Maybe it wasn't working, but I wanted to pick it up anyway. Wolf might not have had the time to, and it looked like it was still mostly intact. If anything, I could try to find the time to give it to him and perhaps he'd be able to use it.

However, I found myself unwilling to try and grab it up off the floor, what with all the electrical discharge from the severed wiring. So I left it where it lay. No wonder he hadn't picked it up.

Despite the absolute terror and unrelenting trembling, I still felt like there was something I should be doing to help. Part of me understood that this would have to be mostly on them, but there was surely _something_ I could do. Cut off her tail, or distract her again, or anything. Could he kill her with just a whip? I couldn't see his spear anywhere, so he must have lost it, as well.

My fingers gripped the blade in my hand and I glanced at it with a sharp flick of my eyes. I could give him the blade back. . .he'd lost his wrist blades in the Queen's crest, he'd need a slashing weapon. At least I knew for sure it would work. Not like the spark-emitting firearm on the ground.

It would also be more reliable than trying to find Brutus. He might have been dead or unconscious for all I knew. Laid out and useless. All looking for him would do was waste time and make it more likely that the Queen killed Wolf.

And I cared a lot more about Wolf than I did Brutus. So that was my reason for being.

Get the giant knife-sword to some alien warrior so he could chop the head off of an alien parasite. It felt good to have a plan.

So, I grasped on to that little bit of meaning and my grip tightened not out of fear, but resolve. I stalked around the edge of the room, watching and waiting. Wolf continued to lash with the whip, and the Queen continued to sustain more and more wounds. Her gait faltered several times, and her head drooped. By the amount of smoke covering the floor, I figured she had lost quite a bit of blood. Wolf was bleeding from several spots, too, but not the copious amounts she was.

Now it was _her_ backing up and trying to dodge lashes of the whip. I edged closer and closer until I was only a few feet away from Wolf. He had closed the gap between him and the Queen enough that each crack of his whip landed somewhere on his prey. She was curled and defensive, crying more than screeching. It was now or never.

"Wolf! Catch!"

He turned his head just a little bit and I did my best to toss my blade in a way he could catch it. It soared in a little arch, and at first, I thought it was going to land way short, but Wolf rolled to intercept and caught it by the hilt.

The Queen turned her head toward me and I stepped back, but I had moved within her range. She squealed and lashed out with her tail, barely missing me with the spike by a few inches. The thickest part of her tail caught me in the ribs and I was thrown several feet across the room, landing on the floor in a heap. The breath was knocked clean out of my lungs and I wheezed painfully, doubled over.

Recovery was a luxury I wasn't allowed quite yet, though, and I forced myself to roll and see what happened, forced myself to my hands and knees. I kept my arms wrapped around my abdomen, coughing, but I had to watch, had to know if he'd be okay.

If I'd need to help again.

It was hard through the white spots obscuring my vision, and I blinked several times to clear it, but it didn't help. Still, I saw enough.

Wolf rolled back up to his feet and as the Queen turned her attention back to him, he spun with all the grace of a weird muscular dancer, slashing with the knife in a whirl of movements. At first, I thought he'd missed, but in the time it took me to blink and wheeze in some air, the Queen twisted and fell to the floor. The force of impact made her head pop right off.

Wholly disgusting, but I was too relieved to care. I let out the breath I'd been holding—wincing at the pain—and let myself fall limp on the floor.

She was dead.

The Echo was dead.

All that was left was any straggling drones, any juveniles waiting to grow. My body was heavy with dried slime and blood. Fatigue seemed through my limbs and I was content to catch my breath for a moment, one of only a handful I'd had all night.

Almost done. We'd jumped the biggest hurdles.

Finally.


	16. An Opened Door

 

The strange fire burning in the corner wasn't showing any signs of petering out anytime soon. I watched the flames lick the air as I waited for my chest to stop aching, for each breath to stop feeling like a stab between the ribs. It was mesmerizing, the way the hardened resin around the room reflected the light, the occasional pop and snap of sparks.

I felt like I could almost fall asleep if it weren't for the pain. I wasn't sure if my ribs were broken or just bruised, but each inhale and exhale made me believe the former.

At this point, I wouldn't have been surprised if I was just one giant bruise.

My line of sight was interrupted by a thick pair of legs and I was suddenly pulled up by a hand around my bicep. I grunted and winced, but managed to move my legs under me and stand. I wished I could just lie down for a few more minutes, but Wolf had other ideas.

Staggered but upright, I pressed my arm against my abdomen, at the bottom of my ribs to try and support them. Standing actually felt a little bit better, without the added pressure of being prone on my side. Still, I was taking shallow, quick breaths. I glanced up at Wolf and found him watching me with his head tilted.

Trying not to look like a big wuss, I straightened my back out a little more and motioned toward the Queen's decapitated body. "Good—kill," I said around one quick cough that almost had me doubling over out of agony.

He took one last look at the dead Queen, then turned to me and set his hand on my shoulder, shaking it with some vigor. I felt my brains knock around in my head a bit, and when I'd pulled through the chest pains, I glowered and stood on my toes to shove him back. For some reason, he seemed _satisfied_ with that and motioned toward Checker's corpse near a wall.

"Good kill," he repeated, though it took me a moment to realize that was what he'd said.

In his own voice.

It was rough and gravely like the words were hard on his throat, and the mask muffled the sound, but I was certain I wasn't mistaken. It surprised me and I stared at him for a second, mouth open.

"You can. . .can you _speak English_?" I asked, dumbfounded. Soon as the question was out of my mouth, though, I felt dumb.

As expected, he shook his head in answer.

No, of course not. He was parroting me. He could understand, but it was evident he wasn't accustomed to speaking it. All he was doing was making an effort to connect with me; much like when he'd given me that awful token with the chestburster skull.

"Oh, right. Well, thanks," I muttered, pulling the necklace out from my shirt as I thought about it, looking it over for any damage. It wouldn't particularly tear me up if it was, but it seemed okay. One of the teeth had nicked my chest and I was bleeding, but that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. My once-gray shirt was now a muddled black-brown-red, and I had to keep adjusting the shoulder to keep the fabric on.

Nodding, he turned to his wrist com and punched in a few notes. A display popped up that I couldn't hope to understand.

Looking around, I asked, "Where's Brutus?"

He switched his gaze away from his computer to me and clicked at me, his head tilted.

"Um," I grimaced and tried to explain, "the other guy, the other you."

Wolf rotated his arm to block the blazing scout ship and scanned the area. A loud creaking sound startled me, but Wolf seemed unperturbed by it, so I figured it was the ship settling. It was followed by some foreboding rumbling.

Soon after, Wolf pointed and I followed the gesture to see the wide form of Brutus across the room, crouched and shaking his head.

Oh good. He was alive. I guess.

Well, Wolf was probably glad his friend was alive, and that was good enough for me. He didn't seem concerned about him, though, and as soon as I acknowledged that Brutus was there, he turned away and started walking toward Checkers.

"What's the plan now?" I asked, limping along after him. "We killed her, so it's done, yeah?"

Before I could even finish speaking, the ship groaned and then vibrated beneath our feet. I came to an abrupt halt and looked around frantically; the phenomenon had even brought Wolf to pause and he inclined his head toward the ceiling.

Though it had only lasted a second or two, I still held my free hand out for balance for a while longer. It hadn't been particularly violent, but the ship moving had still startled me.

When I trusted my voice again, I asked, "What the hell was that?"

Rattling in thought, Wolf waited for the ship to do something again. After a moment of nothing, he turned to address Brutus, who had finally deigned to join us. The started to discuss something between themselves, which seemed to have something to do with the dead Checkers and me if I was following their subtle glances right.

However much it disgruntled me to know I was being spoken about as if I wasn't there, I had no hope of following their language and stood there with a stupid expression on my face. Waiting.

I didn't even want to complain. Such moments where nothing was going on had been fleeting.

"Wolf!" I snarled when the ship shook once more.

Brutus snorted and shot me a withering look before complaining to my escort. If Wolf said anything back, though, I didn't hear it. Instead, he pointed at Checkers and then strode swiftly to the Queen's head and retrieved his wrist blades, popping them back into the gauntlet. I had thought they'd been broken off, but maybe they'd been pulled out, instead.

Whatever he'd asked Brutus to do with Checkers' body, though, the big guy didn't seem interested and stood there, shoulders squared in defiance. Wolf berated him and I was just getting tired of being ignored, especially since the ship was continuing to shake.

"Someone please tell me what the _fuck_ is going on," I demanded, holding my arms out at my sides to keep my balance as the ship lurched, nearly throwing me down.

Stumbling, I gasped and scrambled back up. The two aliens had been taken by surprise, as well, and had to recover from the sudden slide. Even still the ship was creaking and groaning, filling my ears and making my head ache even more.

But, I realized what was happening.

"Is the ship moving?" I asked, just as it lurched yet again. It had seemed so big when I'd managed to find my way outside earlier; even though it had crashed on the side of a mountain, I didn't think it was possible for such a big, broken thing to move.

All Wolf did was glance at me, then brought up a hologram on his wrist computer. Brutus was doing the same thing, and it was him who found something first.

It was hard to tell what he was looking at, but I inched a little closer and decided that what the hologram was showing was the semi-familiar bridge. Wolf and I had passed through it a while ago, and it was still littered with the dead staff.

At one of the control panels, an injured alien was propping themselves up, as if they didn't have use of anything below the waist.

Every time they punched in a command, the ship shuddered and slipped a little further downhill, compromising my balance. I was caught somewhere between surprise at there being another survivor and irritation that they were seemingly trying to make the ship take off.

All he was doing, however, was making the damn thing fall off the mountainside, taking us with it along the way.

Brutus and Wolf huffed in annoyance, but I thought they'd be more thrilled to see someone else who had survived the crash and, apparently, the rampage of the Echo. That thing had had a vendetta against their kind, it had seemed.

Considering what this other alien was doing, I supposed I would have been irritated, too.

The ship shuddered and heaved, and then started sliding again. This time, though, it didn't stop. Debris and corpses were sent careening toward the sloped side, and I had to grab a hold of Wolf to keep from joining them. Brutus cut off the display and headed for the exit of the loading bay.

Taking hold of my arm, Wolf heaved me along after him as he followed his comrade. The floor shaking beneath us made our hasty retreat difficult. The rumbling was almost deafening.

However, we did make it out and then came the arduous task of navigating the darkened hallway, but Wolf didn't let go of me. We were fighting an uphill battle on the falling ship, and I couldn't be trusted to make the trip on my own.

We only made a couple turns and then Brutus opened up a big door and slipped inside. Wolf followed him, I dragged along behind. Once we were inside, though, he let go of me and I managed to stand on my own.

"What are we going to do?" I asked. My legs felt like Jello and it was taking every ounce of strength left in my body to keep me upright, to keep myself in one spot.

Both of them ignored me and Wolf was tasked with prying open a panel on the wall. The cover came off with a pop and he tossed it aside. After punching in a few commands, a large door slid open and I was blinded by a harsh, white light.

Fresh, cold air hit me and chased away the muggy heat of the ship, almost instantly freezing the sweat that had beaded on my skin.

After the door had opened all the way, Wolf stepped aside and Brutus leaped out. Once my eyes had adjusted to the light, though bright spots still half-blinded me, I joined Wolf by the opening and peered over the side, clinging to the wall to keep the shuddering vessel from throwing me out.

We were maybe two stories up, but dirt and debris was still being kicked up to the just below the door as the ship skated down the mountain, jumping with each sudden change in the terrain or large rock. The ground was rushing past, but I had no way to gauge just how fast we were going. To me, though, it seemed like we were careening at breakneck speeds.

Wolf's companion was completely out of sight, having already abandoned ship. Though I didn't want to be on when the ship sailed off a cliff or crashed into the valley below, the thought of leaping off the ledge made my head spin and bile rise in my throat.

Looking to Wolf, I took another unsteady step backward, bracing myself against anything in the room that I could get my hands on, I said, "You can't be serious."

He turned his head to me and chittered something, maybe trying to sound encouraging. I shook my head, mute and almost more afraid than I had been all night, since first waking up in that cocoon on the wall. There was no way I could survive that leap.

Tuck and roll would only get you so far.

Reaching a scaled hand out to me, he motioned for me to come. I bit my lip and fisted my shirt, catching the pile of dog tags and the talisman Wolf had given me.

"I can't, I can't," I muttered, shaking my head.

Growling—not in any threatening way—he took a quick step toward me and grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward him. I dug my heels in to stop, but he was stronger and managed to haul me over to the edge. I reached out with my arms and grabbed the edges of the doorway, trying to keep him from just pushing me out.

However, he made no move to do so. Instead, he spoke rapidly in alien gibberish and it almost sounded like he was irritated.

And he had every right to be.

I'd made it this far through sheer willpower, false bravado, and maybe actual courage somewhere in there. At times. Now I was going to turn chicken and refuse to do something? Brutus had been so quick to just leap off, and every second I stalled out from fear was another second closer to a disastrous crash at the bottom of the mountain.

And Wolf was stuck there with me, trying to convince me to jump instead of leaping to safety.

Well, relative safety.

Swallowing hard, I finally nodded and bent my knees to make the jump. Brutus had done it. He was well gone by now, further up the mountain. The snow might cushion the fall a bit, and I could just roll with the impact and. . .maybe be ok. At least not die. After everything I had gone through already, I could surely make a simple jump.

The slope was alarming, though. The way the mountainside was rushing by also caused me a fair bit of alarm. But I had to do it. I would most certainly die if I didn't jump off the ship. I wasn't going to come out unscathed, but I had a higher chance of surviving.

Maybe.

I took a deep, irritated breath, and shook my head to clear it.

"Alright. Jump with me?" I requested, turning my head to look at him without meeting the unrelenting gaze of his mask.

My escort, however, nodded and stepped up next to me. I felt like a big baby asking him to, but it was also an enormous relief that he had agreed. He didn't have to be so accommodating, but he was anyway and I wasn't sure how to take that besides being glad.

Without another moment's hesitation, he rattled a command and leaped off the edge of the opening. I was a second and a half slow to react, but I launched myself forward as well with a big step and push off the wall. I was hoping that maybe if I propelled myself forward, I would clear the debris and the ship and make it on to fresh powder.

There were a few things I realized as soon as I was over open air: twenty feet was a ridiculous amount of space when you were no longer on solid ground; I didn't know how to land—don't lock your knees, that was about the extent of my knowledge; Wolf was soaring a lot farther than I would have thought physically possible. Farther than I was going to, and there was a several-yard gap between the two of us, carried apart by inertia.

Part of me had been hoping he would be able to catch me. Now I just felt like an idiot trying to believe something like that.

Well _shit._

I flailed my arms in circles, probably attempting to fly, but the ground came up quick. I was going to land all wrong. Though I bent my knees to cushion the impact, everything else was wrong. How was I supposed to turn my momentum into a roll or—what angle?—shit, lean forward—no, lean back?—bend at the knees—

This wasn't going to—

Soon as I hit the ground, I knew I'd made a grievous error in calculation. My legs gave out and pain shot all the way up my spine. I collapsed in a heap, my ears ringing, and tumbled down the mountainside. I kept my arms close to my body and tucked my head in. Snow exploded around me, filling my nose and clothes. I didn't know how long I was going to roll for, but everything hurt.

_Cra-ack!_

Something stopped my progress down the hill. I couldn't catch my breath, and I could barely move. My body seized with pain and though my mouth was open, there was no sound coming from it. I'd rolled straight into a rock, but at least I'd stopped moving.

It was only a small solace. I carefully picked myself up and slumped away from the rock, curling up to clutch at the knee had bashed right into it. It was still impossible for me to breathe, but I'd finally upgraded to making a few helpless sounds as I rocked back and forth. I pulled myself away from the fetal position long enough to check the damage.

Blood was soaking the left leg of my pants, a few inches above my knee. There was a tear in the tented fabric, and the pain was immeasurable. I had to hold it out behind me for anything resembling comfort, but I kept my right knee against me, holding it with desperation.

Static filled my head and my vision blurred. I was hyperventilating, tears rolling down my cheeks. My world was turning to mush even as my stomach churned.

Darkness rimmed the edges of my sight. A dark shadow loomed, blocking the morning light. I fought the tight fuzz threatening to consume me, but it was a losing battle. The pain—the blood—my breathing—the darkness won and I fell into oblivion.

*:･ﾟ✧

It felt as if I had only blinked. I squinted against the glare of the sun as my eyes fluttered open. I no longer felt queasy, but there was a definite pain in my legs that made my whole body throb with each beat of my heart. At least my endorphins had finally kicked in, even if only some. At least I didn't feel like I was going to black out again.

If my ribs hadn't already been broken when the Queen had hit me, they certainly were now. The pain that came with breathing wasn't on par with that of my legs, but ragged breath was punctuated with a tight wheeze.

I was no longer on my side. Instead, I was on my back staring at the sky. Part of me was pretty sure I hadn't done that, but I decided not to think about it and sat up slowly. The pant legs around my knees and left thigh were colored a muddy-red and my breath hitched. Tentatively, my teeth clenched so tight it hurt, I pulled at the severed fabric and tilted my head to try to look at my leg through the hole. It was impossible, though, because the tear was too small.

But I knew they were broken, and I wouldn't need visual confirmation to believe it. I knew when something was fucked up, and it wouldn't have been the first time I'd broken something.

Besides that, if the bone in my thigh had broken the skin, I didn't want to deal with that.

My left leg—what bone? The. . .femur, I thought—was broken. My right knee was causing me the most pain because it was impossible to move that leg without somehow using the joint. That meant, though, that I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon unless Wolf or someone came for me.

Where was that bastard, anyway?

"Wolf?" I called warily, afraid he'd just left me alone to be found by someone. Eventually. Maybe. If I was lucky.

At that point, I would have even taken Brutus. Just _someone_ so I wasn't alone.

A distant boom made me duck instinctively and cover my head. Just that small motion sent a sharp jolt of pain through my body and I hissed through my teeth. I twisted at the hips to look around, then finally remembered that the ship had been sliding downhill.

Its trek had left an ugly scar in the land, mounds of dirt almost as tall as I was mere feet away. Somehow, I'd managed to jump far enough to avoid crashing into the upturned rocks and dirt. If I hadn't, I knew I would have broken a lot more than my legs.

Down the hill, I could see nothing but the billowing smoke and floating embers of a large fire at the bottom of the mountain. The ship, it seemed, had only just managed to crash.

Maybe I should have waited until there were trees to jump to. Further down, the tree line started and likely slowed the ship's descent. Maybe. It was pretty big. It was too late to think about all of that now, though. What was done was done.

Thinking about it wasn't going to heal my legs.

Hopefully, the impact would have killed any stray drones running around. It definitely would have finished off the half-dead alien that had tried to make the ship lift off. I couldn't imagine why except maybe they hadn't known what else to do in their situation.

"Wolf?" I called again, a little louder. He should at least still be nearby, right? Unless he went to find Brutus or something. If he didn't come back at all, though, I still had the military to fall back on.

They'd show up eventually.

When there was no answer, the anxiety really set in. I didn't dare move, but I didn't think I could stay where I was, either, because I was too exposed on the empty hill in the cold and snow with barely any clothes left besides my long underwear, which was still mostly intact. The sun's arrival wasn't making the air any warmer, that was for sure. I was already shivering, and I wrapped my arms around me to try and heat myself up.

At the very least, maybe the cold was helping to numb the pain.


	17. One of Them

 

The longer I waited for Wolf, the more anxious I became and the more I came to believe that he wasn't going to ever come back. I was going to freeze to death all alone after everything.

I took a few rapid breaths and mentally prepared myself for the next step: see if I could stand. It took several more deep inhales to steel my nerves, and then I tried to heave myself up a few inches, just enough to bend my legs and get them underneath me.

Just the effort of flexing those muscles caused stars to erupt in my vision.

My teeth gnashed and I bit back a scream. I gave up that particular endeavor and settled back onto the ground, panting. Tears started to fall down my cheeks and I fought to stay conscious.

Now I didn't know what to do. I couldn't get up, that was for sure. I turned and tried to flip over onto my stomach so I could maybe crawl up the hill, but that hurt way too much, too. My wrist hurt, but that felt more like a sprain than anything else. Then I tried to maybe scoot on my butt down the hill, but that still required too much movement in my legs.

Crawling through the snow didn't seem like a great idea. My best bet seemed to be to sit tight and wait for the helicopters and tanks.

A day late and a dollar short. We'd already done all the work.

Instead, I leaned back into a lying position and covered my face with my hand. I tried hard to suppress the sobs, but a few escaped while I choked on my tears. After all of this, I was disabled by a fall. I was going to be done in a by a couple of broken bones.

Alone in the woods, freezing to death.

After a moment I took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to pull myself together. Someone was going to come looking. I just had to last long enough.

Then, I suddenly remembered.

My phone!

I sat up straight, sending another jolt of pain up my spine, and fished around for my cell phone. I had completely forgotten about it, and now I was on a different part of the mountain. What were the odds that I could find any sort of signal? Slim, but I could try.

There it was, the familiar weight in my back pocket. I grunted and whined in pain as I shifted to pull it out between violent shivers, but it would be worth it when—

The jump and subsequent tumble down the mountainside had almost completely shattered the screen into a spider web of cracks and chips. It had already been cracked, but now it would probably be near impossible to read the display.

That was okay, though. People had cracked screens all the time. So long as the inner plate was still okay, it should still work. It had to. I stared at it a moment, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then hit the button to turn it on. I couldn't remember how much batter I'd had left when I'd last stopped using it, but hopefully, it would still have enough.

Small slivers lit up between the cracks, but for the most part, it remained black and broken.

Something inside me broke and I yelled incoherently, tossing the phone as far as I could throw it. I pressed both of my hands against the sides of my head and continued to scream like an indignant child, then picked up anything that was within arm's reach and threw those, too—rocks, handfuls of dirty snow, weeds, sticks, anything that had been thrown close enough by the sliding ship—nothing was safe from my wrath.

The only thing missing was a good ole tantrum thrashing, but moving even enough to throw things was kicking my ass in the pain department.

I fell on my back hard enough for my vision to blur at the edges and I scrunched up my face, chest heaving in a strangled cry. I remained like that for a while, staring up at the white, wintry sky. I tried hard to stop crying, to calm down, but it was proving difficult.

It didn't matter. It wasn't going to work, anyway. I don't know why I even bothered to hope that I'd have working signal on this forsaken rock. The longer I was

At least it wasn't snowing at the moment. Sure, the snow that had fallen through the night was deep and cold, but it would have been worse if I had to sit through some sort of blizzard, waiting to be picked up.

And the longer I sat there, the longer I could avoid going home. If I never even made it home, then I wouldn't have to face the consequences of all this. Of breaking the quarantine and wandering into the woods when we were told not to. I wouldn't have to tell anyone what I had done, what _we_ had done. What had happened to them.

Tell my parents.

Tell _Jess'_ parents.

A familiar, masked face popped up into my vision and I started violently, racking my body with spasms of pain. I shouted and curled in, trembling and panting.

Wolf chittered an admonishment and kneeled next to me, pulling my shoulder and turning me so I was on my back. I gasped and reached out for my legs with both hands, fingers shaking. They hovered uncertainly for a few moments, and then I just let them fall back to my lap.

"Why did you make me jump!" I hissed through clenched teeth. I rounded on him and lashed out with a closed fist, trying to hit any part of him I could reach. "You should have carried me!"

It was easy for him to dodge the blow with a single step and he lifted his hands, palms out, and clicked rapidly in his funny language. I understood it to be some sort of quick apology or explanation, but that didn't help. I tried again to smack him but only wound up hurting myself more.

Now I was in more pain _and_ breathless, but no closer to gaining any semblance of vengeance for this outrage. I waited until the throbbing stopped and then sat back up, glowering at my lap. "Whatever," I said, resigned. Wolf tilted his head to the side and rattled quietly, then approached me when I didn't continue to lash out. He kneeled back down next to me to look at my legs.

Deep down, I knew I wasn't really mad at _him_. I was just angry in general and had no outlet. I was angry at my injury, angry at my phone, and just _angry_.

I turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. "I thought you'd left me for dead."

Wolf glanced at me, murmured something, then gripped my upper arm and started to stand, pulling me with him.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, grabbing his thick arm with both hands.

His response was another encouraging rattle and he pulled me upward. My first instinct was to get my feet under me, but the tiniest little twitch made me gasp. "No—no I can't—"

My dead weight didn't seem to be a bother for him, even with one arm. He pulled me up and my feet dragged on the ground, making me cringe and writhe. "Stop! Stop!" I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.

When he hesitated, I almost sobbed in relief and tried to pry myself out of his grasp, but he held me tight. "They're _broken_! I can't _stand_. Please? _Please_!"

For a moment he just made a decisive clicking noise, then rumbled in his chest like an annoyed dog and gently set me back on the ground. I couldn't bring myself to let go of him, though, as if terrified that he'd actually leave me if I let him go.

Once I gained control of my breathing—as much as the cold-induced spasms would allow—I looked up at him and swallowed hard. "They need to be set. . .I'll need a splint. . . "

A rumble vibrated in his chest and he maneuvered behind me. In one fluid motion, faster than I could comprehend, he leaned forward, wrapped an arm around my waist, and pulled me off of the ground, holding me in the crook of his arm against his side. I couldn't help the strangled screech that slipped past my lips, but he managed to do the whole thing without causing me too much undue pain.

And by "too much" I mean I didn't pass out.

I hung there, limp in his arms, my legs and arms dangling. My feet barely scraped the ground as he carried me like a sack up the hill and into the encroaching woods. Every movement made me cringe just a little bit, but once he made it up onto flatter ground, things were easier.

Despite the small bit of comfort that came from the heat he gave off, I felt completely undignified and even somewhat humiliated, and I made a point of looking anywhere but at him as he carried me into the woods.

Being carried by the midsection wasn't a comfortable process, though it was certainly easier on my legs. I squirmed so much that Wolf nearly dropped me a couple times, but eventually, he lugged me to a part of the forest that had been cleared of snow, surrounded by a small copse of pines and frosted bushes. I didn't bother trying to figure out how he'd done it.

Wolf kicked away some rocks and sticks in a small patch of the ground and then bent his knees, lowering me down. I extended my arms until my palms were on the dirt and could support some of my weight. Wolf chittered a warning, and then let me slide forward. I wasn't completely ready for it, though, and my sprained wrist buckled under my weight. Just barely, I was able to turn and fall on my shoulder instead of my face.

"Son of a—you trying to break the rest of me?" I snarled into my arm, glancing back at him as he let my legs slip from his grasp and fall semi-gently to the ground.

It still made my teeth grind, but it was better than being completely dropped from where he'd been holding me. I was prone now, but I turned until I was in a sitting position with my legs stretched in front of me and I just glowered at him.

He cocked his head to the side as if wondering why the hell I was upset.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh yeah sure, I get it. My _face_ isn't what's broken, right?"

For another moment he stared back at me, then his chest heaved and he turned and called out to the tree tops. I figured I should probably lay off him a bit—he seemed to be becoming exasperated and the last thing I wanted to do was irritate him when I was like this.

Who knew what he'd do.

Sighing, I rubbed my shoulders to try and warm up and said, "I'm sorry. I'm just. . .upset. That's all. I really do appreciate the help."

Wolf glanced at me, then nodded.

Though the wind wasn't so bad now that we were no longer in the open, it didn't make it any warmer. I curled up the best I could with my legs and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering, and I tried to figure out what was next on Wolf's agenda.

"Where's—"

As soon as I spoke, Brutus dropped from somewhere above us and landed heavily next to Wolf, startling me. I looked up to see where the hell he'd fallen from, but all I saw was a few swaying trees.

"Never mind," I muttered.

Through the trees, I could hear a distant buzzing, but I wasn't sure what it was. A hum? The wind whistling in the branches? It didn't seem to bother Wolf or his pal, though, and after a few minutes, it went away. Maybe just a ringing in my ears, or general forest sounds.

The two of them were in a discussion, and I realized that this was the first time I'd seen them outside of the shadows, in natural lighting. They were still imposing—tall and muscled—but out of the darkness, they seemed somewhat smaller than I thought. Maybe it was because I wasn't as scared anymore.

It made me appreciate the differences between the two of them, as well. I had been able to tell Brutus wasn't Wolf because they were built somewhat differently: Wolf more like a wrestler to Brutus' linebacker. However, they were also covered in different colored rough, scaly skin. Wolf was a more pistachio green with darker spots around the joints, but Brutus was a dark, muddy brown with similar patterning.

They finished their conversation and both turned to look at me. I balked under their combined gazes and waited for them to do something. Brutus grunted and turned away, his shoulders squared as if he was miffed about something.

Wolf ignored him, however, and walked over to squat next to me. I leaned a bit to peer at Brutus from around him, but he was hanging back, rotated just enough to watch us sidelong.

"What's going on?" I asked, averting my attention back to Wolf, shivering more from the morning chill. The snow that had wormed into my clothes during the fall had melted, and it was closing in on that threshold where my teeth were starting to chatter.

His response was incoherent at best, but I was starting to pick up on how he separated syllables. Plus, the growls and clicks were starting to sound more and more like an actual language. I attributed most of the unintelligible gibberish to the mask he wore: it had to muffle a lot of what he was trying to say. I sighed, wondering why I bothered but figured that silence would be worse.

"Well it's cold, so whatever you're doing, hurry it up before I freeze to death," I said between teeth-shattering tremors.

He nodded and twisted to pull something off one of the straps running along his waist. What he presented to me was the long, unmistakable digit of one of the bugs. I shied away from it in disgust, but not before spotting the edges of a wound, almost like a square.

Checkers? When in the fuck had Wolf had time to lop off that dead thing's hand?

"What are you doing?" I asked, as he produced a small dagger and sliced a shallow gouge into the palm. He rooted the tip of his knife around for a moment, slathering it with a shallow coat of acid before discarding the hand. Where it landed and blood oozed on the dirt, it began to smoke.

When he crouched down in front of me, holding out the acid-covered knife, I leaned way back and eyed him warily. He seemed to notice and stopped to watch me for a second as if absorbing the uneasy way I was looking at him. He straightened his back after a brief moment of consideration and then lifted a hand to unplug some of the tubes from his mask.

That small gesture made my stomach twist as I realized he was removing it. I'd only known him for a short time but he'd always had that mask on, so I wasn't sure what I should expect. I found myself trembling—not just from the cold—as he fit his palm over his mask and popped it off.

My breath hitched and I felt my fingernails cut into my palm as I waited.

I wasn't sure what I had been expecting when he took that mask off. His whole body structure was functionally humanoid despite the rough skin and strange blotchy coloration, so I might have been expecting a familiar, more human face, but I was surprised.

 _Unpleasantly_.

He had a large, sloping forehead ridged with small, black spines and beady human-like eyes set deep into a thick brow. He had no nose, but the most striking feature was the four insect- or crab-like tusked mandibles set over an open mouth lined with sharp teeth. The dreadlock-like appendages attached to his head fanned out from just underneath the spines lining his head.

In hindsight, I shouldn't have been expecting anything familiar, but most alien movies I'd seen depicted aliens as bald little green or gray men with big eyes and bulbous heads, but Wolf didn't look anything like _that,_ either. He was much. . .scarier.

I felt myself recoil from him slightly, but I had to remind myself that I probably didn't look like a spring chicken to him, either.

Wolf held his mask out to me and I looked from it to him and then back again before tentatively taking it from his hands. It was a heavier than the blade he'd loaned me and I had to hold it with both hands. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be looking at—the deep cracks or the strange scribbles? It looked pretty mad and I wasn't sure if that was on purpose or just one of those things that _were_.

A series of rattles made me look up from the mask at Wolf. It was startling how clear the syllables were now that the mask was off. I could almost make out the phrase, or word: khu'wei. It was hard to replicate, but it sounded slightly familiar like he'd said it to me a few times.

My hand tapped the side of the mask and I looked around uneasily, but my gaze always fell to that knife. "What?"

He used his free hand to tug at the chest plate covering half of his pectorals—what the hell kind of design was that? Was it over his heart or something? I guessed that kind of made sense—and indicated toward a scar close to where his clavicle was or would be. If he had one.

It looked like a bone similar to a collar bone, anyway.

I looked at him, confused, then leaned in for a closer look. It certainly wasn't just a random scar. Instead, it resembled one of the symbols on his helmet. The mark was bigger than a silver dollar and made up of three shapes, a sideways V, a sideways exclamation point, and the third underneath those two was kind of like an apostrophe.

"So?" I asked, looking up at him and leaning back again.

First, he motioned to the mark, then let his chest plate fall back in place and lifted the knife again. I furrowed my brow and stared at it, trying to connect the dots and keep myself warm at the same time. He obviously wanted to do the same thing to me, but I couldn't figure out why he had to do it with a knife dipped in acid. Wasn't just a plain old _sharp edge_ good enough?

Having that stuff drip on me before had been horrendous, I wasn't sure I wanted him to carve a tattoo into me with it. My back ached just thinking about it But—it wasn't just acid, was it? It was Checker's blood, something that I had killed by myself.

Maybe they were connected. But maybe they weren't. Checkers was technically my second kill, but I don't think Wolf had actually seen that.

Or maybe he was trying to brand me as his property.

I didn't fucking know.

"Is this because of the kill?" I asked, sounding warier than I had wanted to as I motioned toward the discarded hand. I'd been going for reserved curiosity but instead sounded just plain skeptical. I wasn't even sure if he understood.

However, he nodded.

Though I was sort of suspicious, I figured this alien didn't really gain anything by lying to me. If he wanted anything out of me he'd just use his plethora of muscles to do it, not trick me. I eyed the knife again for a bit, then nodded and straightened up and brushed aside the already-torn neck of my shirt, assuming he was going to put it in the same spot.

From where he was standing, I could make out Brutus muttering what I could only assume were protests. I glanced at him, but he hadn't moved. This must have been what he and Wolf had been discussing moment's prior.

He hesitated for a moment as if gauging my resolve. I tried my best to stop shaking, but I was cold and only getting colder, and his gaze was fierce and predatory without trying to be. It was making me uneasy. At the very least the pain in my legs had subsided to a dull ache thanks to the cold, but I knew the shivering was going to make this hurt more and maybe botch it, like how you were supposed to hold very still for a tattoo.

Finally, he leaned in. I closed my eyes and held my breath all in an attempt to keep myself from trembling. When the tip of the acid-covered knife touched me, I couldn't help but jump from pain and surprise. I balled my hands into fists and willed myself to be still, though it made my whole body tense and my legs ache.

I had survived an alien hive of parasitic monsters. I could survive a silly acid branding.

The whole process only took a few seconds and then I was releasing my held breath with a shudder. I had to resist the urge to scratch my chest, afraid that it would ruin whatever work he'd done. I tried to look at the scar that was undoubtedly there, but all I could see was a red blotch.

Eh, my neck could only bend so far.

Though I wasn't sure what to say or do in response, I felt like I needed to say something. Words failed me, though, as I looked up at Wolf. He didn't seem bothered by it and just inclined his head and closed his eyes.

Was that—respect?

I drew in a breath and reciprocated the gesture, which seemed to please him.

"What does that mean, by the way?" I asked before he could stand. I was back to shivering. "That. . .word. Um. Clual. . .sithway?"

His chest rumbled in that familiar laugh of his and he pointed at me. "Clua-lsih'wei."

Me? I tilted my head and touched my fingertips to my chest. "Is that. . .your name for me? Like how I call you Wolf?"

Could he even understand me without his mask on? I had thought that he'd required the translator. . .if it even had one. He'd obviously dealt with humans before, but to what extent? Did he just understand my curiosity from the tone of my voice and the horrible way I butchered his language?

He pointed at himself. "Sha'ktil-ar." His name. It was much more clear without the mask on like when he'd first introduced himself. Maybe he didn't understand me completely, but he understood enough to try to explain the word. He pointed at me again and repeated the same word, or name, confirming my thoughts. "Clua-lsih'wei."

Though I wanted to know what it meant, it was enough to know it was how he identified me. I figured that would be hard for him to explain, anyway, and if it was some silly name like "puny human" then I didn't want to know.

Instead, I just did my best to parrot him, though his name included a strange click I didn't think I could make. "Chalk. . .ilar." It felt foreign on my tongue and I was embarrassed at the bad attempt. "Clualshiway?"

Brutus scoffed from his corner of the clearing and I shot him a glare.

Again, Wolf just chuckled at my horrid accent, then set his heavy hand on top of my head. I glowered and pulled my head out from under his hand. He chortled, took his mask back from me, stood up, then left me to sit by myself while he moved back to Brutus' side. Fine then, I would just continue calling him Wolf until he made me stop.

A shiver seized my body and was so intense I felt it in my ribcage. "I'm so cold," I muttered, huddling up with my arms wrapped around me. My teeth clattered and made my jaw hurt.

Wolf glanced at me, his mask now back on his face, then held up a hand to tell me to just wait for a bit longer. Then he and Brutus spoke about something, and the grumpier alien took his leave into the trees, toward the bottom of the mountain.

Where their ship was. Maybe to see the damage.

What exactly I wanted wasn't even clear to me. Was I asking him to build me a fire? Maybe pick me again? He'd been so close during the branding that the heat he gave off had staved off some of the drafts before. I was going to have to be carried, whatever they had planned for me.

And I wanted so much to know what they were going to do with me. Clearly not kill me, but what else? They had no more ship and I couldn't walk on my own.

My fingers were starting to feel numb and I breathed into my palms to warm them up. Whatever it was, sitting in the cold by myself with broken legs was definitely worse. The beds of my fingernails were turning purple-blue and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and try to retain some body heat, but every time I tried it sent white-hot bolts of pain to my brain. Sitting with my legs straight out wasn't particularly comfortable, but if I tried to move into a more comfortable position, all I did was hurt myself.

Being on that ship had been better than freezing to death, no matter what the fuck was going on inside it. Maybe they could just move me closer to the wreckage while they called for a pickup. It was clearly burning if the smoke reaching into the sky was any indication. Being close enough to it would keep me toasty.

The woods rustled off to my left and I glanced back to look, and Wolf stopped moving as well, growling and crouching down. That immediately put me on edge and we both just stared, waiting for something to happen.

It didn't seem like there was much to see in the woods but when they shook again, I peered into them to try to see if some stupid squirrel was getting brave. I thought it was too cold for squirrels, though, especially this early in the morning. It had to only be fifteen or twenty minutes until seven o'clock, at the latest.

Leftover fear was telling me it was probably another drone. One that had been off the ship, returning to its queen only to find the ship gone.

But I didn't want to believe that. It was easier to think they were all dead.

Then, an explosion of gunfire reigned from the tree line. Wolf snarled and engaged his cloak, disappearing from sight. I screeched in surprise and threw myself down, twisting so I was face-first on the ground and holding my hands over my head. The movement had required I flip over, though, and white-hot pain lanced up my legs and to my hips, bringing fresh tears to my eyes.

Hands grabbed at my shoulders and brought me up. Adrenaline had chased away some of the cold, and the throbbing in my legs made me forget about the rest of it.

"Shh, it's okay, we're gonna get you outta here."

Eyes wide, I tried the best I could to look up at a person swathed in a military camouflage outfit.

"Where'd it go?" he shouted to his comrades, who had all emerged from the foliage, rifles squared up.

"Disappeared," someone called back.

Clicking his tongue in irritation, the soldier returned his attention to me and asked, "Did that thing hurt you? Were there others?"

All I could do was stare at him in disbelief. Where had these guys come from? I hadn't heard any approaching vehicles, not that I'd been paying attention. A quick scan around revealed other shadowy men lurking around to form a perimeter. My mouth hung open and I resisted his attempts to pull me up.

"Miss—miss it's okay. What's wrong—oh shit." He must have noticed my broken legs, or at least realized that they were hurt. He put a hand to his head, probably an earpiece, but the helmet he wore hid it from my sight. "Legs are injured, possible break. She's freezing cold, has lacerations and burns all over. . . ."

I checked out of his conversation. Rescue—the rescue I'd been hoping for, waiting for. The backup I'd been told about hours ago. But it was technically too late and I didn't even _need_ rescuing anymore. I didn't _want_ to be rescued. I should have been overjoyed to see these people. They were going to take me home, back to town, back to my family.

Back to a school where all my friends were dead, where I'd broken the one rule we'd all been given: don't go out into the woods until the military says it's safe.

Would Wolf even let them? He'd disappeared as soon as they started firing, but would he fight back or fall back to regroup with Brutus and then start a fight? Both of them were outnumbered and outgunned, even though they were formidable.

First the crash, then all the fights with the drones. . .they had to be exhausted and injured. Wolf would be killed, or captured—

In my mind's eye, I saw it. Wolf strapped to some cold gurney, probably dead with his ribcage broken open so they could poke at his insides and see what made him tick. We'd have his technology which meant so much for our science, for our advancement as a species. . .but could I do that to Wolf? I had no doubt that he'd be able to fight these guys off—if he hadn't just spent a whole night fighting and getting injured.

No. I didn't want that. Not even for the jerk Brutus.

Maybe Wolf was an asshole sometimes, but he'd saved my life. There was no denying that. When he could have left me to die, he took me under his wing and not only protected me but gave me the means to protect myself.

"Wuh—"

The man hooked his arms underneath mine and started to pull me backward, but immediately stopped when I cried out and arched my back in pain. "Ah, shit—sorry. You'll be alright. We'll get you fixed up. Are there any more of them?"

Someone to our left let out a loud choking sound before falling in a heap to the ground. Everyone was immediately back on edge, sweeping the trees and nearby area for who had killed him.

"Stop!" I shrieked, clutching the man's arms. "Just let me go!"

Mr. Military stopped short, then shook his head and heaved me up again, calling for someone to come help him with me. "Can't do that, miss. We're gonna get you safe, don't worry about us.

He didn't understand.

I didn't care.

Another couple men on opposite sides fell dead, impaled by invisible weapons. Brutus had come back, that was the only thing that made sense. Maybe together they could kill these men, but that also wasn't something I wanted.

They were just doing their job. They were here to help, to try and figure out what had killed the first group and crashed in my back yard.

"I'll be fine, Wolf, it's not worth it!" I called out again.

"She's delirious. In shock," Mr. Military said to the soldier who had come to help pick me up. The two heaved me up into their arms and I bucked in pain, biting back the scream. I didn't want to give Wolf any reason to be mad at them.

Though I tried not to struggle too much, they were having way more trouble than Wolf had to carry me back into the trees, and each step and lurch sent another fresh wave up my spine.

From the line of men; "Bogies in camo, can't see them! Not sure how many. Two, maybe more."

"Please, just _go_!" I demanded, flinging my arm to punctuate my point.

Had that been vibrant green blood I'd caught a glimpse of?

"We're gonna get out of here, calm down!" My rescuer gave up using his help and heaved me up to toss me over his shoulder fireman style, causing me to gasp. Pain lanced all the way up to my midsection, causing my vision to blur. Even the sounds of gunfire seemed muffled like I had been dunked in a vat of water.

I successfully fought off the darkness. "Go," I whispered, pleaded.

Though the blurriness, I saw the bend and twist of light as either Wolf or Brutus slipped by. The soldiers seemed to have caught on and fired at where he had been, tightening their line to separate us from the fighting.

The trees started to close in and I tried to keep my head up, tried to make sure he was leaving. I heard the muffled sound of his familiar roar somewhere in the trees. Relief had me sagging against Mr. Military. At least he'd fallen back, but I couldn't speak for Brutus. He seemed like the kinda guy that would be out for blood regardless.

We broke through the woods back into the open, where Wolf and I had jumped from the falling ship. When I lifted my head, I spotted black vehicles parked, blades twisting leisurely.

Helicopters—the buzzing and humming I'd heard earlier.

How had I not made that connection?

I had been expecting them all night, and yet I had forgotten all about them because I hadn't wanted to go home.

Now, that was just where I was going because I'd been too stupid or blind to warn Wolf that they'd be coming. They were still shooting out behind us, either still fighting someone or unaware that they had fallen back.

If they'd fallen back.

All I could do was hope that they had, or that if they really wanted to fight. . .they would win.

Part of me—the selfish, scared part—wished that Wolf would try a little harder, but most of me was relieved. Relieved that he had enough brains as well as brawn to know which battles to pick, that he was at least ok for a little while longer.

Relieved that I was going back to the home I knew.

And terrified by what that meant for me.


	18. Torn Away

 

I drifted in and out of consciousness the moment I was hauled onto the helicopter. The guy who had picked me up told me his name several times, but I could never latch on to it. He kept trying to ask me some questions, but I couldn't focus enough to understand or answer.

Besides that, I probably wouldn't have answered, anyway. Not over the sound of the helicopter, and not if it had anything to do with Wolf, for the time being.

The second he gave up and left me alone, I closed my eyes and tried to rest. The pain made it difficult, but I was so exhausted that I still wound up passing out completely at some point, only to wake up to new faces staring down at me.

Faces were hidden behind yellow hazmat suits, silhouetted by bright white lights.

"Hold still, you're safe!" one of them said as soon as I started to struggle and fight, shoving hands away. "You're going to make your wounds worse if you don't hold still."

They were pushing my stretcher down a sterile, white hallway. I counted at least four people, but a couple of them might have just been duplicates from my bleary vision. I wasn't really sure with the lights blaring down at me.

"Mendes, you and any others who were in direct contact with her need to get to decontamination right away."

That was his name. The guy who had picked me up—Mendes. I was being held against the stretcher with heavy hands, so all I could do was flick my eyes from face to face, trying to see if I could spot him. He must have been hanging back, though.

"Wrong. I have to stay with her in case she says anything. Direct orders," Mendes said.

"She's barely conscious as it is! Just go and you can be back right away."

It wouldn't matter. I didn't feel much like talking.

All the same, Mendes grumbled a begrudging resignation and I didn't hear from him again. The hazmat doctor leaned in to speak with me again.

"Are you in pain?"

Somehow, I managed a meek nod.

"Won't be long. We just have to get you into quarantine to check you out."

Whatever that meant. If they thought I had been impregnated, they'd find out I was fine soon enough. I stared at the ceiling, counting the fluorescent lights as they passed by overhead. Another hazmat suit leaned into my line of sight and I focused on their face: a woman. Smiling, comforting. Probably no older than my mother. The tension in my body left just looking at her.

"Sweetie how did you break your legs?" she asked.

Someone else at my left lifted my arm to take my blood pressure on the run. Seventeen lights had passed by now.

When I didn't immediately answer, she cooed, "It's alright. You can tell us."

Maybe, but I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. How much they knew. They were familiar with the military that had shown up and nabbed me, so it was probably safe to say that they were at least somewhat aware of what may have transpired in the woods.

But I still didn't want to say too much. My throat was dry and sore, and all the struggling with Mendes had renewed the pain in my chest from the queen hitting me.

For a while, I'd even forgotten about it because of the whole leg things.

In the end, after she pressed me for the answer again, I sighed and tried to wet my lips with my tongue. I was so thirsty all of a sudden. And hungry. And tired. I just wanted to sleep for a little longer. Or for several days.

"The ship was falling. I jumped off it," I said at last. "Landed wrong. . .hit a rock with my knee."

She nodded and we shoved passed two doors. I was assuming that the helicopter Mendes had put me on took me to Estes Park Medical Center, but none of it looked familiar. I'd been to the ER once when I'd broken my arm, but otherwise, I really hadn't spent much time at the hospital, and I couldn't see much besides the ceiling: for some reason, they'd decided I need a neck brace.

Just in case. It was probably protocol.

That was the emergency room, though. I hadn't seen any other part of the hospital, least of all any quarantine area that the military might have set up. Were these all government people, or had they brought in any actual staff? I supposed it didn't matter, so long as they took the pain away.

"The burn on your back, sweetie?"

Burn? I struggled to remember what she was talking about, then realized that it was from the fight with the drone when I'd been separated from Wolf.

If I wanted to feel better, I needed to tell them. "It was acid. I neutralized it already."

Two of the doctors shared a glance, but the woman wasn't done asking me questions yet. Mostly, she wanted to know where else I was hurt, or where the pain was coming from. I told her about my ribs, how something had hit me in the chest. The bite wound—I couldn't remember every little injury I'd sustained anymore.

The discomfort was getting worse the more lucid I was. I fidgeted and groaned, only partly aware that I was basically topless. Shifting around, however, made me remember the dog tags and other things I had in my pockets.

Most of the stuff in my pockets had probably all been scattered over the side of the mountain when I'd fallen, but if they were up there scouring it for Wolf and other aliens, then maybe it'd be found.

"These tags," I muttered, trying to lift my hand to pull the chains from around my neck.

"We got them, already. Everything you had on you. We'll get them where they need to go."

I dropped my arm again, which had been too heavy to lift all the way, anyway.

Everything felt like it was full of lead.

The nurse gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and said, "We're gonna get you cleaned up and then take you to x-ray, okay?"

They pushed me into a tiled room, like a pool shower. Stopping, I was left alone for a moment before a hazmat doctor showed up with a needle. I squirmed, but he assured me; "It's just morphine. It'll help with some of the pain and make this process less miserable for you."

Nodding, I held my breath when he stuck me with the syringe. As soon as he emptied it, I felt immediate relief. The discomfort fled, but so did many of my more coherent thoughts, and I even sleepier than before. But, it did its job and they were able to undress me, then pick me up and put me in one of the tubs without me feeling anything.

Even modesty as they scrubbed and hosed me down with water that smelled like chemicals. Unfortunately, I couldn't enjoy the feeling of being _clean_ in my drugged up state.

I was still covered head to toe in crusted-over alien spit, caked-on blood, and just various types of dirt and grime. The burn on my back especially needed to be washed, as did all of the cuts and the open wounds on my legs.

Everything was at a risk for infection.

Whatever they washed me with _burning_. Even through the painkillers. It made my skin red and itchy, and if I hadn't already been ready to pass out, I might have scratched myself raw.

*:･ﾟ✧

I was out of the decontamination showers, but I didn't remember being moved. My eyes were heavy and thoughts muddled, but everyone around me was still in hazmat suits.

A man wearing one such suit leaned over me with a small light, shining it in my eyes. My fatigue and the morphine must have knocked me on my ass at some point. How long had it been? Had I already had my x-rays? No, I didn't think so. . .it just seemed to be a few minutes in the time gaps, nothing more.

"Hello, my name is Doctor Jacobs. We have a specialist coming to see you, but I'm here to do a quick exam while they get their suit. I need you to remember some colors for me, okay?"

"Yeah," I muttered, nodding.

He glanced over his clipboard and prattled off the colors. "White, purple, green, black."

I closed my eyes to better commit them to memory. The last thing I needed was to fail a concussion test when I didn't even have one. Unless I did. I'd been knocked around so many times that I shouldn't have been surprised if I did have one. I didn't feel like I had one, but I hadn't exactly sustained one before so I wouldn't know.

"Alright, I'll ask you for them in a little bit. Can you tell me your name?" he asked. He was sitting on the edge of my bed.

Somehow I managed to think through the fog of drugs, then nodded. "Nichole."

"Do you have a last name, Nichole?" he asked, taking my pulse.

That was a little harder, but I pulled it out after a deep breath. "Nichole Shain."

Jacobs turned to look at someone I couldn't see and jotted a few notes down in his clipboard. "Do you know what day it is?"

Oh jeez, I wasn't good at this on a _normal_ day when my life _wasn't_ in danger. What day was it? I'd been at school earlier yesterday. . .had it been the weekend? I couldn't remember. I supposed I would take a wild guess.

Kristie had gone home with a friend to stay the night, I remembered that. My parents only would have let her do that if it was a weekend. I thought.

"Is it. . .Saturday?" It was more of a question than an answer.

The doctor nodded his head and smiled. At least, I thought he was. Hard to tell from the angle I was and the hazmat mask. "Yes. Do you remember those colors I asked you about earlier?"

I pursed my lips and thought about that briefly. "White, purple, black. . .and green?"

"Very good. Another doctor will be up soon to take you for some x-rays. We'll get your ribs checked out and your legs, and maybe a few other spots just to be safe," Jacobs said.

All I could do was bob my head.

What I wanted was to be back asleep. Maybe I could sleep through the x-rays.

"I'm thirsty," I muttered.

"We've got you on fluids, but I'll have the nurse bring in a cup of water for you," Jacobs said, indicating to the IV next to my bed.

"Alright."

He stood up to leave and passed by someone else in a hazmat suit, sitting in a metal folding chair next to where two curtains met. It seemed this room wasn't a room, just an area sectioned off by screens. When I narrowed my eyes, I could barely make out the features of Mendes behind the suit. The two nodded to each other, and then the doctor left.

Mendes stood up and walked over to my bed, sitting where the doctor had seconds before.

"What?" I rasped.

"You feeling alright?" he asked.

"No." I couldn't help but feel resentment toward him for taking me away. For his men shooting at Wolf. And I guess Brutus. Kind of. Mostly Wolf.

Sighing, he bowed his head. "Right. Sorry. Well, don't worry. Once we get these x-rays done and do some really quick blood work, we can get you out of quarantine and into an actual room. Might be 24 hours to have the bloodwork rushed, though."

Looking away from him, I didn't answer.

"We'll call your parents soon, after the x-rays," Mendes said.

"If I pass them," I elaborated.

It was his turn to remain silent, but I didn't need him to confirm. They wouldn't call my parents until they knew what to tell them, and they wouldn't know that until they finished the x-rays. If I was infected, they'd have to kill me and tell my parents I was dead when they found me.

Or died in the hospital.

Didn't matter which story. I opened my mouth to tell him that I wasn't infected, but knew it wouldn't matter if I did, so I just shut it again.

Shortly after, someone arrived with my paper water cup. They helped me to sit up and I found that I was actually able to lift my arms high enough to sip from the cup on my own. Some of the fatigue had worn off, but only a little.

After I was done, Mendes took his seat across the "room" again and said nothing else to me. That was fine, it meant I could sneak in another drug-induced nap.

*:･ﾟ✧

Having my x-rays done was the only thing familiar going on. It only took a couple people to move me to the table, then they put the lead vests down so I wouldn't get radiation poisoning. They checked my spine, too, and finally took off my neck brace when I threw a fit about having to wear it, and after Mendes confirmed that I had been fine when he found me.

The whole process took about forty minutes, and then I was carted back to the makeshift room they had for me. A new doctor—she introduced herself as Doctor Kendrick—took a few samples of my blood and said she'd have it rushed to a lab for priority.

Even after the x-rays came back, though, I was still confined to the screened area and the bed. I managed to sneak in some Zs between doctors and exams, but they always woke me up.

And asked me dumb questions.

Why couldn't they just let me sleep? Or at least bring me something to eat.

None of them had stopped wearing the hazmat suits, either. I couldn't say I blamed them, but it was unnerving to have them examine me and work on me with those bulky things on. It just reminded me that I'd had an encounter with aliens.

Which I had, but I didn't want to think about it for a while.

"My wrist hurts, too, but I think I just sprained it," I announced while the nice lady from before—Jaime, the nurse said her name was—stitched up the bite wound on my shoulder. They had pulled out the staples Wolf had used.

They'd been bagged and carried off somewhere, probably for a different round of tests. I wasn't sure what they'd hope to glean from them.

"I forgot to mention it earlier, when you asked," I said in way of apology.

She glanced at me, then nodded. "That's alright, I'm sure they took an x-ray of it. If not, I'll take a look in a moment just in case."

I nodded in return and settled back into my bed, trying not to look at my legs. Even without the x-rays, it had been obvious that my left femur had broken through the skin. They'd set it sometime while I was being cleaned, but I'd heard the word "surgery" thrown around quite a bit.

My knee had been a big, swollen mess. Now that I was clean and wearing nothing but a thin paper gown, I could easily see every bruise and cut. Every swollen joint and scabbed abrasion. Jaime was busy with the task of stitching all the deepest cuts, but anything else would have to be done by Kendrick when the blood work returned.

Why they were even bothering with the stitches were beyond me, unless they had already seen the x-rays of my chest and decided I didn't need to be put down immediately.

Jaime cut the suture and set down the equipment. "Okay, which wrist is it?"

"This one," I murmured, lifting the wrist in question. It had some discoloration, but nowhere near the amount of bruising on my legs or other parts of my body, and was only slightly swollen.

Carefully, she took my wrist in her gloved hands and massaged it with gentle pressure, looking up from the tops of her eyes to gauge my reactions. When the pressure didn't do anything, she bent my wrist and manipulated my fingers until I winced.

"Definitely not broken, like you said probably just a bad sprain. I'll go see if I can find a brace, okay? Will you be alright on your own?" she asked, glancing pointedly at Mendes.

I glanced at him too, then smiled faintly. "Yeah, I'll be alright."

Nurse Jaime lingered a moment longer, looking torn, then nodded and left the room. The curtains swung closed behind her and Mendes unfolded his arms from over his chest and approached my bed. My entire body tensed, making my muscles ache and stitches strain.

"They should be bringing up your x-rays, soon, to show you the extent of the damage. The results are clean, though, so we called your parents," he said.

My heart skipped a beat and I struggled to breathe a moment.

"You won't be able to see them until we get the results from your blood tests, but they know where you are and that you're safe and alive," he assured me, mistaking my distress. "Let us know if you need any more painkillers. Are you comfortable?"

"For the most part," I said with a quiet voice, staring at my hands and the IV line.

He nodded and backed up to his seat. "I know you're probably hungry, so when the nurse comes back I'll have her try to get something for you from the cafeteria."

"Not like you probably care," I sighed, more to myself than to him.

Mendes heard me, however, and replied. "Of course we care. Just because things could have, um, been _bad_ if something was wrong with the x-rays doesn't mean we would have taken any pleasure from it. You're the only survivor, and we need to know what happened."

Of course that's what they cared about.

Figuring out what happened.

Instead of instigating an argument, however, I kept my mouth just and glowered at my lap. For a moment longer he continued to stand, then he cleared his throat. I looked up at him, brows knit together, waiting for him to speak.

"Is there anyone else out there we should be looking for? Other survivors, maybe?"

I turned my head so he wouldn't see my eyes water. Wouldn't see my lip quiver. When I was certain that my voice wouldn't betray me, I said, "I don't think so. Not unless they were lost in the woods, or survived the ship falling off the side of the mountain."

Mendes shook his head. "We've already spoken to the ones who made it out of the woods, and the ship blew up."

My neck popped when I turned too fast to look at him. "How many got out?" I demanded.

It barely registered that he'd mentioned the ship had blown up. I was pretty sure I'd already known that.

"Half a dozen, maybe less. We're still trying to discern how much more are missing, but not everyone's noticed their kids aren't home," he said. His smile might have meant to be comforting, but it just looked like he was trying too hard. "We've contacted next of kin for all the IDs you managed to scavenge. Everything else will just be trying to decide who's missing, who's just wandering the town, and who. . .did not make it."

It took a couple seconds for that to sink in. Not even half a dozen had made it. Had never been grabbed or forced on that ship. They'd been the ones with a head start, or the one's fate, luck, whatever, had smiled down on. They were living, breathing proof that the old adage was right. That there was safety in numbers.

So what was I living proof of?

"What made you start collecting that stuff?" he asked. "Did you think of that on your own?"

I shook my head and said, "No. Met a guy named Simmons. He started it. I finished. I might have dropped some when—when I was trying to escape."

He nodded. "That's understandable. You did us a service."

Part of me knew what he was doing here, right now. He was warming me up, getting my gums flapping so he could ask all of the questions I hadn't been able to answer on the helicopter.

And he proved my point with his next question.

"Was it the alien you were with when we found you? Did it take all of you?"

Finally, I pried my eyes off my lap and looked up at him. "No. It was the black things. The one you were looking for inside me."

Mendes shrugged. "They didn't tell me what they were looking for. Just that you would either pass the x-rays or you wouldn't, and what to do for each situation. I'm on a strictly need to know basis and I guess I didn't need to know what exactly they were looking for."

If that was the case, I wasn't going to tell him. The fewer people who had live with that image in their head, the better.

After a pause, he continued. "What was alien doing with you, then?"

"I don't know," I muttered. It was at least sort of true. "Helped me escape, I guess."

"Why?"

Instead of answering, I deflected with my own question. "Did your men get them?"

His shoulders heaved and he shook his head. "Not sure. Last I heard, the aliens fell back and with that weird. . .invisibility thing they had, we couldn't find them. Now we're just scouring the mountain for anything salvageable."

Leaning back, I chewed on my next question for a few moments. When Mendes didn't take over, I decided to go for it. "How many did you lose."

He paused, then said, "Last I heard, seven. Then the aliens retreated. We wounded at least one, though. They found blood in that clearing and took what samples back we could. Do you know how many of those things are out there right now, stranded without a ship?"

All I could do was shake my head. It was enough that they knew there might be more than one. I didn't want to give them anything else if I didn't have to.

For Wolf, at least.

None of that information did me any good. I'd still wanted to ask. Wanted to know how deadly those two were even as beat up as they might have been. For the most part, I was just content to know that Wolf probably wasn't dead, if maybe he'd been shot.

It would have been real shitty if he'd survived the whole thing, helped me do the same, only to be gunned down by my people.

After a moment, Mendes reached out, making me flinch in surprise. He had second thoughts after that and pulled away again before motioning toward the collar of my hospital gown. "What is this mark it gave you? The doctor says it's like you were branded."

I glanced up at him and suddenly felt annoyed with him. I didn't want to be questioned. I wanted to eat and I wanted to sleep up until I was able to see my parents again. Which I still wasn't looking forward to. "How would I know? He didn't exactly speak English. Maybe we're betrothed now, I don't have any idea."

The corners of his mouth twitched in what I thought was almost a smile, but he turned away and cleared his throat. I wished then that I'd let the nurses put a bandage on the thing.

Though he opened his mouth to ask more, the screen pulled open as the nurse returned. Mendes closed his mouth and took his seat by the opening. Jaime had come back with the brace for my wrist at just the right time.

"Alright, I found one. It wasn't very swollen, so I didn't bring you an ice pack but I can grab you one if you'd like," she said, taking a moment to set the brace for me.

"No, I'm ok. I'm hungry, though," I said before Mendes could.

She nodded and said, "I'm sure you are. Any requests?"

"A burger? Or a hot dog or something?" I asked after a moment of thought.

Jaime smiled from behind her mask. "I can get you a burger and some fries from the cafeteria. Only water to drink, though."

"That's fine." I was still pretty thirsty, even with the fluids being pumped into me. At least they'd eased up off the morphine so I wasn't completely doped up, but I could still shift around with only a little bit of discomfort.

After excusing herself, Mendes seemed intent on asking me a few more questions, but I pushed the button to lean my bed back so I could lie down.

"I just want to eat and sleep," I huffed, staring at the ceiling.

Mendes said, "That's fine. I'm mainly just asking for my own curiosity. I'm sure someone will be along later to ask the hard questions. I'm mostly just here to watch you, like protective custody."

"Whatever."

He fell silent and I was glad for it. I didn't look forward to spending the next 24 hours with him hanging out until my blood tests came back, but I supposed I couldn't help it. The screened in area I was in didn't have a TV, so I was sure he'd get bored and start talking again.

If I could help it, though, I'd just sleep through the whole thing.

*:･ﾟ✧

The blood tests didn't end up coming back until almost 48 hours later, my only company that of Mendes and someone who came to replace him at some point. I was brought some magazines from the waiting room to keep myself entertained, but as planned, I did a lot of sleeping.

Thanks to the drugs, I didn't dream much.

That was something I was looking forward to even less than seeing my parents. Would they be mad, or just glad to know that I was alive? Probably both, knowing them. I was afraid that Kristie or Alan wouldn't be with them, too, for the wrong reason.

But I hadn't seen them on the ship. . . .

It was such a large ship. . . .

I tried not to think about it too much, but when I was given the clear to be moved to a private room, my apprehension grew. At the very least, I wouldn't have to look at these people in their creepy suits anymore. Just their regular doctor's frocks and scrubs.

A lot of my time in silence was spent wondering what Wolf was doing. If he was going to be able to call for a rescue or something with Brutus.

What kind of range did those wrist computers have?

Would they be able to sneak back on board their ship and jerry-rig an array so they could send out an SOS to their people?

Most of all, I wondered if I'd see him again. If he'd come for me. If this mark made me his property or something and he'd come to collect. I didn't know what I wanted. I was safe, clean, and warm now, even if it meant having to face up to what I did.

Before I was moved, though, I had been cleared for surgery—from the higher-ups and my parents, I guessed. The doctors had not been shy about expressing their displeasure for the run-around they were being given. The longer they waited, the more work they'd have to do during the surgery to fix what had started to heal improperly. As soon as they got the okay, though, I was rushed to the OR and put under.

There wasn't much I remembered after that. I could barely even recall what they'd told me before they'd started. When I came back from anesthesia, I was in a much different room.

For starters, the walls weren't white, but more of an off-white eggshell. There were a couple scene paintings hanging up on the walls. Next to my bed was a window, but all I could see was the floor next to me, covered in gravel and sporting a single AC unit. Still, now I could tell that it was sometime during the day.

Best of all, though, was the fact that there was a TV up in the corner and a remote at the table next to me. Finally, something to look at other than the screens and Mendes' face.

Oh, wait.

He was there, too.

"You're awake," he said as if I couldn't tell for myself. Apparently, he'd switched back into shift watching me. The guy who he kept switching with was lost in the wind to me.

All I answered him with was a groggy hum.

"I'll let them know."

To my surprise, he stood up and left, closing the door behind him. I'd never known him or his shift partner to leave me alone in a room without at least him or the doctors. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd managed to finagle his way into the operating room.

I watched the door for a moment, then leaned my head back and took a few deep breaths. My ribs felt a lot better, and they'd told me I hadn't broken any. A small hairline fracture on some of them, but I didn't have the same amount of discomfort breathing as I had before. There was a dull ache in my legs, leftover from the surgery.

One of the details I was fuzzy on was what exactly they'd done. I'd seen the x-rays, so I knew my femur had broken pretty cleanly with only minor splintering, but my knee had been basically shattered.

At some point, they were sure to go over it with me again.

By the time the door opened again, I had managed to sober up enough to turn on the TV and find a station playing Spongebob. It was nice and mindless—good since I wasn't able to fully focus on anything to understand a real plot.

When the latch clicked, I looked over expecting to see Mendes and a doctor, but it wasn't him. The person walking in made my stomach lurch.

"Nichole? Nichole!"

The tears came before I could stop them. I didn't even care that Mendes was there to see me, hanging out in the back and waiting to come inside. If my legs weren't broken and if I hadn't been getting fluids intravenously, I would have stumbled from the bed. As it was, though, I couldn't move. I could only lift my arms and choke out a sob.

Of all the scenarios I'd played over in my head, after all the dreading and stressing, I couldn't deny that I was so _happy_ to see her.

"Momma!"

She came flying across the room and practically collapsed on top of me. Her arms engulfed me and I embraced her. She was already in tears and I let myself break down. There was no reason for me to be brave anymore. The danger was gone, my parents were here to be brave for me. The bed sunk as my dad sat next to us and I groped with my good hand for him until I felt his calloused fingers squeeze my own. My mom and I babbled incoherently through the bawling.

For the first time in the past few days, I allowed myself to feel vulnerable.


	19. Through the Fears

". . .went well. We'll need to keep her for observation. . . ."

So what if I wasn't dead? Maybe I had survived that alien hive, but that almost didn't change a goddamn thing.

". . .another few days, maybe."

Yeah, sure. Not like I want to go home or anything.

What I wouldn't do for a fucking cheeseburger from McDonald's. I was sick and tired of eating hospital jello and cafeteria food. If I was lucky, my parents might bring me something.

They usually didn't.

Cheap-ass parents. Couldn't shell out a little bit of cash to buy some fast food for their hospital-bound survivor. I mean, sure. I'd technically broken the law and disobeyed direct orders. Details.

My doctor continued, answering some question Mom asked. "No, I'm afraid not. . . ."

I was only half paying attention, lost in my thoughts. Fantasizing about a Big Mac and trying to forget about what was going on around me. The bad news being delivered.

". . .to do something about that burn and. . . ."

Mom squeezed my hand reassuringly, but I didn't look up from my broken legs. From the new thing that was causing me some anguish. My mom was seated next to me and my dad was standing at her shoulder, his hand resting on my extra-thick pillow.

"How much will all of this cost? Will our insurance handle most of it?" Dad asked.

Yeah, Dad, that's the important part of all of this.

This is why I hadn't had any McDonald's yet. I shouldn't have been so hung up on it, but I was upset and could use some comfort food. Something fattening and unhealthy but so entirely delicious to take my mind off my horrible situation.

But apparently, I didn't deserve a tiny glimmer of happiness.

Echoing part of my thoughts, Mom shot him a sour look. "That's hardly what matters. She's alive and going to come home with us in a few days."

He rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut.

The government's doctor had finally found time away from her reports to meet with me and my parents. I didn't remember much of our last meeting, considering I'd been under a fuckton of pain meds and had gone straight into emergency surgery to salvage what was left of my knee.

She looked about as tired as I felt, but if the lines under her eyes and thin lips were any indication, she probably always looked exhausted. Her graying red hair was drawn up in a ponytail so tight that I thought her scalp was going to split open. Earlier, she'd introduced herself as Allison Kendrick, general surgeon.

"The government is going to pay for any and all procedures, Mr. Shain, so you don't need to worry. Surgery, hospital costs, physical therapy, even her counseling. Anything she might need."

"That's awfully nice of them," Mom said while petting my head.

So long as I keep my mouth shut, I thought bitterly, not looking up at anyone.

"It's the government's way of apologizing for this accident. The man who was here earlier can, and probably will, tell you more," Dr. Kendrick explained. Or deflected, rather.

"Will she need to be transferred to a government facility?" asked my dad.

Please say no, please say no. . .

"No," said Dr. Kendrick with a shake of her head. She took one of her hands out of her pocket long enough to scratch her collarbone before continuing. "We can all do it all right here so she's close to home, that way she doesn't have to stay at a facility until she's better."

Oh thank the lord. I didn't want to go anywhere but home. At least there was finally something going right for me.

"Doesn't that put you out?" my mom asked.

"I'll be fine. I'm used to being relocated. It's Nichole's comfort we're worried about. Now," Dr. Kendrick said, stepping away from the door. "I'm sure that the nice man outside will want to have a word with you two, and I'd like a couple minutes to talk with my patient alone."

"Why?" I closed my eyes and sighed at my mom's agitation.

The doctor glanced at me and took a breath. "I need to go over some sensitive subjects with her and usually it's easier if the parents aren't present."

Like the subject of aliens.

"What? No!" Mom's protest made me roll my eyes. She grabbed my arm with her other hand. "I don't want her out of my sights for one more minute."

"Tamara. . . ," Dad warned her.

"No! I just got her back! I'm not leaving my baby."

I was just going to ignore the fact that they probably hadn't known I went missing until I didn't come out of my room. Or when they received the phone call that I was found. Whichever had come first.

Again, I rolled my eyes and tried to shrug out of her grasp. "I'll be fine, Mom, really."

She looked at me for a moment, torn. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mom. It's only going to be a few minutes. Let the lady do her job."

For a moment all she did was stare at me but eventually dragged herself to her feet. Of course, she had to draw it out as long as possible by fussing with my blankets and pillow. "I'll be right outside the door. Just yell if you need me, okay?" I nodded, but she still busied herself for a couple of precious seconds by readjusting the fox plush she'd brought me from home. She'd bought it for me from the Denver Zoo when I was younger.

"Mom," I groaned.

Finally, with a huff, she tore herself away from my bedside and let my dad escort her out of the room. Dr. Kendrick waited for a few heartbeats after the door closed, then took a seat next to my bed in one of the chairs.

Eyes back on my lap, I asked, "Am I really never going to play soccer again?"

Dr. Kendrick took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm afraid so, Ms. Shain. Chances are you'll walk with a permanent limp, even with therapy."

Sighing, I leaned my head against my pillow. At least she was honest.

"You broke your legs in a fall, right?" When I nodded, she asked another question. "The wounds aren't consistent with just a general fall. Did anything else happen?"

Lips pursed, I tried to remember. "Um, I tumbled down a hill. Might have hit my knee."

"That fits. Did anything happen after you broke them? That could have made the injury worse, I mean," she asked, reaching for the clipboard at the end of my bed. A pen magically appeared from somewhere within in her coat. "Did you try to walk or something along those lines?"

"Not that I. . . ." Well, actually, a lot had happened. "Oh, uh, I was carried into the woods. . .put back down. . .then that guy found me—Mendes. He pulled me back a ways from the ship—"

"Pulled?" Dr. Kendrick interrupted, raising her brows.

"Yeah, like. . .dragged me. Just a bit, though. . .then he stopped when he realized my legs were hurt." I was surprised at how defensive I sounded on his behalf.

The doctor stared at me for a second, then huffed and scratched a spot above her eyebrow. "That would have done it." She shook her head and scribbled a note on my clipboard, her eyebrows arched high on her face. I felt a strange urge to defend Mendes. I kept my mouth shut instead.

Silence fell between us, then I glanced around and said, "Where's that necklace you guys found on me?"

"I wouldn't know," she replied, looking up at me from the tops of her eyes. "If you tell me what it looks like I could try to have it found and returned to you. Why did they even take it from you in the first place?"

"Um. . .well, I don't know. I guess probably because. . .it had a skull on it and some teeth," I muttered, wringing my hands.

The doctor put the clipboard down on her lap, expression confused. "Like what kind?"

I shifted the way I was sitting, trying to make myself comfortable. "The alien kind."

That information caught her off guard and she leaned back slightly. "How on Earth did you get something like that?"

"It was a gift." Maybe one I didn't fully appreciate but a gift all the same. I would have liked it back. Wolf went through all of that trouble and now the government had it and I wasn't even sure if they were going to ever give it back.

Probably not. They probably wanted to run tests on it and map genomes so they could clone it or something stupid.

Dr. Kendrick sighed and shook her head. "Then you probably won't get it back."

"Yeah," I mumbled. "I thought not."

Surprisingly enough, she didn't ask anything further about it. Instead, she posed a few more general questions about my health, like allergies and current medication I was on, but I knew that couldn't have been the only questions she wanted to ask. I didn't know why she was avoiding it so thoroughly even though I'd already brought up the aliens.

"Ask me," I demanded.

She finished her scribbling and glanced up at me. "Ask you what?"

I shot her a deadpan stare and it took her another moment to figure out what I meant. She finally nodded and looked down at the chart. "Ah. . .yes. Well, first I'd like to ask about your burn. Acid, was it? How did you get an acid burn?"

"It was their blood. The aliens' blood, the nasty screeching ones, not the ones Mendes found me with. It was, uh. . .corrosive. Like acid."

"Interesting defense mechanism," Dr. Kendrick hummed, more to herself than to me. She scrawled a few more notes. "We'll have an artist come down some time and you can tell them what they looked like, okay?"

Dredging up memories of those horrible aliens was extremely unappealing, but I understood the need for it. "Sure, whatever."

After a short pause, she continued. "Did you sustain most of your injuries by fighting them off?"

Sighing, I leaned against the hand that wasn't in a brace and blinked slowly at my doctor. "Yeah, most of them. Except for my legs. I kinda—jumped off the ship, I didn't really fall."

"Why did you have to jump off?"

"It started sliding down the hill so we had to bail." I flinched at the slip, but she didn't seem to notice. Or care. Either one. I wasn't sure why I felt the need to hide the nature of Wolf and my relationship, but it seemed appropriate.

Despite myself, I narrowed my eyes and hunched my shoulders. "Why are you asking and not some scary government agent?"

She set the clipboard down on her lap and folded her hands on top of it. "You'll probably be interrogated later, actually. It just helps us to treat your wounds if we know how you got them. Also, I'm just a curious person, sorry. I'd also like to know about that mark and why you were given a skull necklace as a gift, but you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Otherwise, I'm just here to inquire about your health, not your experience."

Oh great, so Mulder and Skully were going to give me the third degree eventually. Great.

"However," she continued, "that probably won't be for a little while, until you can start your PT or your counseling."

"Why's that?"

"Well, they technically aren't allowed to question you without your parents present because you're still a minor. So, they'll probably sneak into one of your sessions so they can. . .circumvent the rules." Her face scrunched into a grimace.

Lips pursed, I nodded. "Can't let my mom and dad know about the aliens."

"Exactly. It's most likely that they'll disguise their interrogation as a therapy session. You'll still have regular sessions, too. You'll obviously need to see someone to deal with the trauma and it'll be good for your healing, too."

That news perked me up a little bit, but I remained guarded. "Will the same privacy laws apply there? Will I be able to tell this therapist whatever I want without them reporting it?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Dr. Kendrick's lips and she said, "Unless the information you give her is a threat to national security, your health, or someone else's, yes. You'll be given the same privacy rights as any other patient. "

Though pleased, I wasn't sure I felt it was my place to talk about Wolf no matter how much I really needed to. Maybe it wouldn't quite be betraying him if I spoke to someone who wasn't going to be relaying all of it to the government. I doubted I had enough information to help them track him down, anyway, but I felt like I was tattling.

"And until then?"

"Until then, you can get some sleep and focus on healing," she stated matter-of-factly, standing up. "Before you're discharged, someone will likely be by to discuss the cover story with you."

I felt the color drain from my face. "What do you mean?"

Dr. Kendrick took one last look at my clipboard, took the top sheet with her notes and tucked them into her pocket, then hooked the chart to the end of my bed and let it dangle. "I mean what you're going to tell the press, what you're going to tell your family and your schoolmates. I'm sure my employers are crafting a nice story for you right now."

Oh. Right. Can't go around shouting about aliens, can I?

"The press?"

Her warm expression faded into something grave and she looked away from me. "You are the only person to come out of that forest alive who saw what really happened. The others we've talked to only saw shadows and mistook them for wolves or cougars."

Mountain lions, I silently corrected.

"You, on the other hand, were missing the entire night along with a couple dozen others. The media will want to ask you some questions."

Just what I always wanted.

I couldn't help but think that if Michelle were here instead of me, she would have been pretty happy to hear that.

"Get some rest now, Ms. Shain. You've earned it, and you'll need it when I come back to treat that burn" she bade, smiling at me. I returned the gesture and she turned toward the door. My parents piled in the room after she left and as the door shut, I heard her reprimanding poor Mendes about the manner in which he had handled me.

*:･ﾟ✧

Sleeping was nearly impossible. I wasn't on as many painkillers as I had been when I'd first arrived, so I wasn't knocked on my ass when I did try to rest.

All I saw when I shut my eyes were monsters black as night and teeth that tore and ripped. All I remembered when I tried to empty my mind was the terrified faces of my friends when Jess died and when that cop gunned them down. All I imagined while I was in bed was their parents glaring at, shouting at, and blaming me.

The only time I'd finally managed to get some decent sleep was because Dr. Kendrick had agreed to give me a sedative so I could relax.

Even then it had left me feeling even more exhausted.

At the very least, though, I didn't dream when I took the sedatives. I didn't think I could handle the nightmares that followed me wherever I went.

In fact, I didn't think I would ever be able to handle them.

After a few days of sitting in a hospital bed, I was more than ready to go home. There was one last procedure to help with my burn, then I would go home the next day. They'd discussed a few different options, but in the end, they'd chosen to go with a skin graft.

"How are you feeling, Nichole?" the nurse pushing my gurney asked. She was already wearing her mask so I couldn't see her face, but I hoped it was the nurse from before. That lady was nice.

I nodded and took a cleansing breath. "Nervous."

"Don't be." I could tell she was smiling even if I couldn't see her mouth. "It's a very simple procedure and should be done quickly."

Right, no reason to be nervous. Or scared.

Unconvinced, I said, "That's what they always say on those ER shows. Right before the person dies of random complications during surgery."

She just giggled. "Those are TV shows. You'll be fine."

Of course, she was right. I was disappointed in how frightened I was so soon after the incident. I'd battled through alien hordes and impressed a galactic warrior enough to be considered his comrade, but this surgery? The thought twisted my stomach up into knots.

Wolf would have been so upset.

Where was he, anyway? I could only imagine he was out in the woods with Brutus as his company. Hopefully, they were surviving alright out in the cold mountain with all that snow. How they were going to phone home I had no idea, but they were a capable pair. They'd find a way. Maybe there was something in the ship they could use or their wrist computers.

As these thoughts passed through my mind, I couldn't help but wonder what he'd been planning to do with me. Keep me around? Escort me back to Estes Park?

He hadn't seemed to want to leave me there, otherwise, he never would have come back after I'd broken my legs. He'd gone through the effort of carrying me to safety with him, then putting this—his—mark on my collarbone.

So, then what?

The lights overhead passed with a monotonous drone and I picked up counting them again.

One. Two. Three.

I couldn't help but keep coming back to the thought that he might have had the intention of bringing me with him and Brutus. To space—or his home planet.

It was hard to imagine what life would have been like out in that vast expanse. Would he have trained me to be a better fighter? Kept me on the ship as his personal hunting dog, some sort of pet, or some spare bait? Decoration? I was curious enough that I wanted to know and couldn't help but wonder, but the majority of me was glad I didn't have to find out.

There was no way I belonged in space.

Humans didn't belong in space. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Here, at least, I felt pretty safe. Much safer than I had. Sure, at first, I would have done anything to avoid having to explain myself to anyone, but now. . . . My parents were here, sitting in the waiting room for me. There were no more aliens to fight off, and maybe I could go back to a normal life. Sans effective legs.

They'd even said that they'd buy me some god damn McDonald's after the surgery. Wouldn't be able to find that kinda shit outside the Milky Way.

My mom had had that stuffed fox in her arms the last time I'd seen her—almost as if she needed it more than I did. Even Alan and Kristie had come with them to visit me right before I was wheeled out of my room. However, it was more than likely that they wanted to be anywhere else. I couldn't blame them.

After all, I would have liked to be anywhere else.

When they came to drop by and wish me good luck, I'd learned via an intense lecture from my parents that Kristie had been inches away from the same fate as I. They thought I couldn't hear them bickering, couldn't hear my mom and dad using me as an example to teach her a lesson.

That she could have died out there. That I had been lucky.

"You could have ended up just like your sister, or worse!"

The only thing that had kept her from suffering the same fate was the fact that she had shown up late to the party. Dad couldn't help but point out every few minutes that the cops had saved her life by picking her and her friend up.

Should I and the others have been so fortunate.

At least my brother was too young to have even known about the ship. He was only in elementary school, so all we told him was that I had been in an accident and wouldn't be able to do anything for a long while.

Including soccer.

That killed me the most. It was the only activity I had besides school. The only thing I enjoyed and participated in since I had learned to walk. At least that was how it seemed. Now it was gone and I had a long life of doing nothing but minor exercises to keep from degrading into a fat and lazy slob. Wolf probably wouldn't even want me on his team anymore.

I was useless now.

Probably would be forever.

A permanent limp? Maybe something good would happen for once and my physical therapy would go super awesome well and I could bypass the whole threat. If Wolf had managed to drag me into space, maybe I wouldn't have had to worry about that at all.

His species had mastered space travel. They surely could have fixed my legs.

Though, even if I didn't have a limp, I would probably still be gimped. No way my legs were going to be in pristine condition again.

But a girl could hope. Maybe I was just being cynical.

Thirteen lights since I'd started counting. Doors opened in front of me and I was pushed into a bright room with a lot of scary-looking equipment. I didn't remember any of that from my first surgery. The nurses transferred me to the operating table and another masked man leaned over me with a plastic gas mask—the aesthetician. "Alright Ms. Shain. We'll see you on the other side. Just relax."

Easier said than done.

He slipped the mask over my mouth and nose. There was a faint hiss from somewhere close by and the air I was breathing had a strange taste to it.

"Count backward from ten for me, please."

Taking a deep breath, I did my best to count. "Ten. Nine."

People were talking around me but I couldn't hear them so well.

"Eight. . .seven. . . ."

Already I was having trouble keeping my heavy eyelids open. The only thought I had was how much I didn't want to do this.

It didn't matter what I wanted. It mattered that I needed it. It mattered that I could do it, and the mark Wolf had left on my chest was a testament to that fact. This was just a basic surgery. In and out. I'd have full range my shoulder after the graft healed.

If I could live through that crashed ship, I could live through this. All of it. The surgery, the permanent limp, and living my life.

"Six. . .five. . .fo. . . ."


	20. Holding On

All I had to do was remember the story the government had concocted. It would be easy: I basically had to tell a vague version of the truth and just replace aliens with terrorists (go figure). Easy peasy. Most of the story would be spun by the Men In Black designated to my case—Agent Rawlins and Agent Cooper. All I had to do was answer questions after they'd done most of the talking.

Not even my own parents had asked me about the incident, so I hadn't needed to tell them the fake story. It seemed they were too busy worrying about whether or not they were going to upset me.

The closest I'd come to a lecture was hearing myself mentioned when they yelled at Kristie.

That was going to be fun: dealing with my sister's wrath. She was taking all the heat and I wasn't even being chastised for breaking the law.

At least neither of us had any charges filed against us.

Maybe Mom and Dad had already been given the public-safe version of the ordeal. I was just glad that they had been so supportive instead of angry. It was like they had decided I had been punished enough that grounding me or taking away privileges would be redundant.

I mean really, what was left for them to take away from me?

For the next six and a half weeks, I was under strict orders to use crutches. So, even if they  _wanted_  to take away any privileges, there was literally nothing I could do. I wasn't going to play soccer ever again, and I was perfectly okay with never leaving the house, either.

Besides that, all of my friends were  _dead_. Wasn't like there was anyone left for me to hang out with. My teammates were just teammates, and I'd lost a couple of those to the aliens, as well.

Hopefully, my sister wouldn't hate me too much. Especially since their heated reprimands had come to a stop once I'd been released from the hospital. They'd said what they'd needed, I supposed. The point made: "your sister's a cripple, be glad that didn't happen to you."

As we left the hospital, Dad walked behind me while the nurse pushed me out in a wheelchair. Hospital policy. Mom was next to me, holding that stupid fox plush. I still didn't know why she'd picked that particular stuffed animal; the thing had just been sitting on a shelf gathering dust. There were plenty that had actually been on my bed.

I was finally in some real clothes, too—no more airy hospital gowns that left little to the imagination. My mom had picked out a pair of my jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. My favorite jacket had been destroyed during my struggle for survival, so she let me borrow one of her extras.

That was the one great thing about where the breaks in my leg bones were: my initial surgery had made casts moot and I'd sat through most of the initial, post-surgery healing process in that damn hospital bed. I was too old to be in one of those ass casts, and the pins keeping my knee together were enough. I still wasn't free to walk around as I pleased, but that was what the crutches were for—at least until I was cleared to start PT.

Six weeks was still six weeks, though. It was good enough for me that I wasn't in a wheelchair forever. I only had to deal with the one until I made it outside the hospital.

"Don't say anything to anyone, just go straight to your car," Agent Rawlins instructed. He was a beast of a man. Maybe not as tall as Wolf but almost as muscular, with dark enough skin that he was something of a novelty in our small city. He and his partner Agent Cooper, a gangly Jim Carrey-esque man, were escorting us through the hospital.

Agent Cooper continued where his partner left off. "We're going to hold a press conference later in the week so the vultures can wait until then."

Mom picked and threaded her fingers through my hair nervously despite how many times I swatted her away with my hand. She asked, "What about when we get home? I don't want them bombarding us every time we leave the house!"

"We'll try to keep them away from your home, but I can't really guarantee anything," Agent Cooper sighed.

Agent Rawlins grunted and rolled his shoulders. "We'll throw around words like 'national security' and 'Patriot Act' and we should be able to pull together some reason to keep them away from you. I'm sure the press conference will satisfy them enough to make them go away."

"How?" my dad asked.

"We'll go over that with you after you've settled in, probably a day before the conference. For now, just take your daughter home. She'll need some rest before her therapy begins tomorrow," Agent Cooper suggested with a furtive glance in my direction.

I glowered into my lap and sighed inwardly.  _"Therapy", right. More like "interrogation."_

The door loomed closer and I felt my muscles go rigid in my seat. Even from where I was I could see the people hanging out by the door. "Can't we go out the back?"

"Unfortunately, there is no back."

Great.

Thank the high heavens that I wouldn't have to talk. For now, anyway. I wasn't in the mood to be  _seen_  let alone speak in front of whoever the hell was out there waiting. Not when I was still covered in bandages, my bruises not quite healed and still unsightly. Not when I hadn't had a real shower or a decent night's sleep for the past few days, dreading this very moment.

It had been a week and a half, but everything was still so  _fresh_.

Sunlight blinded me for a brief moment as the nurse wheeled me out of the hospital. There weren't nearly as many reporters as I had been expecting, but there  _was_  a crowd of people and some cameras. Parents that I recognized, some that I didn't.

They were all in an uproar when they spotted me and the agents.

"Where's my son? Did he—?"

"What happened—?"

"Can you tell everyone listening how—?"

"Is she really the only—?"

"I haven't seen my daughter, is—?"

I turned my head away and brought my closed fists to my chest, curling into a ball to make myself as small as possible. Maybe I'd disappear.

Agent Rawlings lifted his hand and pushed a camera away when it was moved too close. "You'll have a chance to ask your questions when we make an official announcement. In the time being, we ask that you respect this very brave young lady and her family's privacy. She still has a lot of recovering to do after the horrors she's been through."

"Hey," Agent Cooper snapped at someone out of my vision, "get back! Have some decency."

More and more questions were shouted at us and the police present did their best to hold the line while I was pushed to my dad's Pathfinder. I kept my head down and let Mom hold my hand. Some of the voices I recognized, but most of them were a jumbled mixture of everyone hollering and throwing questions at the same time.

Between clenching my eyes shut and humming one of my favorite songs to distract myself, we reached the car. I was startled when my dad scooped me up and set me down in the back seat, but I settled in and buckled up while he closed the door.

Once he'd taken the crutches from the nurse who had come with us and tossed them in the back, we were off. I tried to keep my head down so I could avoid looking out into the crowd at all of the disappointed and desperate faces. Afraid, above all, that I would recognize some of them—and that they'd be angry.

And they'd have every right to be.

I'd survived and no one else had.  _I_  was mad at  _myself_  for letting my friends die. I still didn't understand why it had been me and not someone else.

"Everything's gonna be okay now, baby. You're coming home," my mom crooned from the passenger seat. She was turned all the way around and made a big enough smile that I couldn't help but return the gesture, even if there was no true feeling behind it.

*:･ﾟ✧

"Remember, don't speak unless someone directly asks you a question, okay? And be vague when you answer. The more detail you give them, the easier it'll be for them to pick apart your story or find holes in it," Agent Cooper coached me.

I nodded mechanically, staring down at the table next to me. I was only going to be able to spend half an hour with the therapist at this rate, but the two agents didn't seem like they were going to stop talking to me anytime soon. The therapist was nearby, at least, and was good at peppering encouragements to me when needed and admonishments to the agents when their instructing became out of hand—when they pushed too hard.

The room we were in wasn't that big; a small side table was at my right with some Kleenex and a fake potted plant, and a plethora of posters with various coping mechanisms and stages of several common mental illnesses hung from the walls. The therapist and I both had big comfy chairs while the agents had to sit in folding metal ones.

Ava Rogan was a tiny thing, smaller even than me, but she had a welcoming smile and a commanding way about her that made up for her height. As expected, she had her handy dandy notebook and a fancy pen with which to write in it.

Probably about my behavior or specific things I said.

"Let's run through it one more time," Agent Cooper said, flipping the pages back on his pocket notepad. They'd read through that thing about a million times now.

I just wanted to go home if I wasn't going to receive any actual counseling.

Ava narrowed her eyes and leaned forward in her seat. "You will have time to run through it again with her later. Why don't you give her a break and skedaddle so I can speak with her about the things she saw and help her heal?"

Rawlins hadn't said much this whole time and it seemed as if he wanted to be there as much as I did. Cooper was the one who liked to hear himself talk. "We have to make sure she has this down so well even  _she_  believes that it's what happened. She still can't get her means of escape down right, so we have to go over it until she—"

"Agent, give her your notes as homework. She'll do fine! Get out of my office so I can have time with my client  _alone_!" Ava snapped, swinging her own pad of paper like she meant to hit him.

Cooper looked like he was going to argue, but Rawlins pushed up from his seat and pulled his partner up as well. "She's right. Just give her what you have written down and she can study it at home on her own time. This is supposed to be  _therapy_ time right now."

"Study?" Cooper looked like the word left a sour taste in his mouth. "She's a high schooler! She probably doesn't even study her school work!"

After his partner gave him a stern glare, Cooper sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, alright. Here, sorry for taking up all of your time." He handed the notebook over to me and I pulled it out of his hand like it was going to catch fire and burn me.

"Make sure you keep that somewhere safe and secret," Cooper added.

Agent Rawlins let Cooper leave first and then turned back toward us. Rawlins said, "We'll be in touch sometime before the conference."

Both Ava and I watched the door until it clicked shut, and then I turned back toward her and stared at the area around her feet. "I'm going to mess this up and get in trouble," I muttered despondently, leaning against my hand.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be just fine. How have you been feeling lately?"

I pulled at a loose string dangling from the hem of my shirt and sighed. "I'm never going to play soccer again and I had to watch all of my friends die. How do you think I feel? I can't even talk about it with anyone but you."

The commanding air Ava had adopted was gone. She crossed her legs at the knee and leaned forward, her expression full of so much pity it made me sick. "Probably pretty angry."

"Among other things," I muttered, averting my gaze to stare at a poster about depression.

"Why don't you tell me about them?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"I don't really want to."

"Well, we can work up to that. How have you been sleeping?" She was too accommodating. I knew it was her job, but I couldn't help but be angry with her anyway.

According to the info graph next to the window, I was projecting.

Whatever.

Shrugging, I said, "Not at all."

She tilted her head slightly, a strand of her short black hair fell in front of her face. "Have you been given any medicine to help with that?"

"Yeah."

"And does it?"

Again, I just shrugged. "I mean, I guess. If I take them."

Her pen bobbed as she scribbled that down. She asked, "Do you not take them?"

I shook my head and wet my lips with my tongue. "No. I mean, not very often. I don't. . .want to sleep. I can't stand the nightmares."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

The therapist sighed and offered me a reassuring smile. I looked away from her. "We can try later, then. How about we just get to know each other a little better first?"

It was an obvious deflection and I knew what she was doing. She was going to make me feel like she was my friend so I was more comfortable around her. Maybe then I'd be more open to talking about everything. Maybe then she could pull some real answers out of me.

Part of me wanted to shut down her attempts altogether, but I knew deep down she wanted to help me. Way deep down.

The last thing I wanted, though, was more friends.

"I don't want to talk. About anything," I muttered, slumping into my chair and tugging at that same string until it finally came free.

"That's fine," Ava said with infuriating understanding. "Is it okay if I talk?"

For a brief moment I thought about telling her I'd be okay with sitting in silence, but I decided I didn't really want that. I heaved a sigh and nodded. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."

She smiled like I'd just given her the best present of her life and leaned back in her seat. "Alright, there's a couple things I'd like to go over with you. . . . First, I need you to understand that none of this is your fault, okay Nichole? The last thing you should do is blame yourself."

Despite myself, her words brought the familiar sting of pre-tears to my eyes.

_Michelle had fallen. Jess pulled me back so we could help her. I tore my hand out of hers and kept running—running—running—_

_"Nichole, wait!"_

"You did a miraculous thing that night and should be  _proud_  of yourself for pulling through it. I'm sure you did your best to save as many people as you could."

_Jess hunched over, coughing blood-tinged spittle into her hands. Pain threw her body into fits and I rushed to her side. Michelle was screaming, her boyfriend holding her back. Jess' ribs cracked and I froze with fear—_

My gut wrenched and I clenched my eyes shut, reminding myself to breathe. She was trying to bait a response. Deep down I knew she just wanted me to heal, but I didn't  _want_  to heal. This was the whole reason I had thought not coming home would have made this easier: I could have ignored all of this, all of the guilt of being  _human_.

"Can you promise me you're not going to blame yourself?"

_"Nichole, wait!"_

_Run. . .don't look back. . .run. . .they'll slow you down. . .run. . . ._

I took a deep breath and blinked away the tears threatening to spill. I didn't want to deal with any of this. The memories—the emotions—my trembling hands—

My response was an incoherent mutter and Ava leaned forward. "What was that, Nichole?"

"I'll try."

_Liar._

Ava smiled at me and my hands balled into fists. "That's all I ask right now. Do you have any questions for me about anything?"

"No." I shook my head.

"Did you want me to call the agents again so you can speak to them?" It didn't sound like a threat, more like she was genuinely curious.

"No," I said a little quickly. "Just, I just wanna sit here for a while."

She leaned back in her seat and took a moment to scribble into her notebook. "That's fine. We have fifteen minutes left."

The moment of silence didn't last long—a few minutes at the most. I was already stuck with my own thoughts during normal hours of the day. My anger dulled to a simmer and I started to fidget. Ava busied herself with flipping through the pages of her notes, and then finally I started to diffuse altogether. Maybe I didn't want to talk about my particular scenario, but I did have  _some_  questions.

"Is this the first time?"

Ava looked up sharply like I had startled her. "The first time for what?"

I scratched absently at a scab and glanced around, looking everywhere but at her. "Y'know. That aliens. . .and stuff."

Forming complete thoughts was obviously beyond me.

She blinked slowly and tilted her head to one side. "Well, it's not the first but it's not an often occurrence, either. There have been a couple cases in the past, though."

Now she had my attention. I sat up straighter in my chair and actually looked at her for the first time that entire session. "You mean like the ones I was trapped with? Or the one that helped me to escape the ship?"

My therapist rose her eyebrows at me and I thought I had said too much, but she didn't press the topic. "I'm never privy to that much information, unfortunately. They don't tell me specifics, just that my patients have had a  _close encounter_  and to. . . ."

"Fix them?" I offered.

"So to say. There's usually not much to fix. The human mind usually fixes itself during trauma, I'm just here to give them someone to talk to so they don't go crazy with all of the secrecy. Someone you can tell the unabridged version to." She brushed a strand of hair from her face. "And of course to prescribe certain drugs to help manage their symptoms."

"Symptoms?" I repeated, sounding more worried than I'd meant.

"Oh it's nothing to worry about," she assured me quickly. "Just general anxiety medicine to help keep you calm. Post-trauma manifests differently for different people."

Even though it made sense, it still made me worried. The nightmares were a given, but what else was there? Besides the vivid memories. I wanted to ask, but I felt my throat close and I just nodded instead. Maybe I'd look up some things on the internet, but that probably would just make things worse: I'd always been bad about assuming I have every ailment I ever researched.

Still, I had a small inkling of how often aliens visited Earth. I wasn't the first person so I wasn't going to be the last person, either. I wondered how many of them were abductees from little gray men with big eyes. Or those claiming to be.

Maybe I'd ask the agents, though they probably wouldn't want to tell me much.

"Of course," Ava added after a moment's thought, "there are different types of encounters so how I help people depends on that, too. Your encounter is somewhere between the Fourth and Sixth kind. You were  _technically_  abducted, there was direct communication, and there were deaths. Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth."

"What are the others?" I asked mechanically. It was somewhat intriguing, but I was left with the tight feeling of foreboding in my gut.

_Deaths involved with the aliens. Jess. . .Michelle. . .everyone. . . ._

She considered the question, then explained. "In order; visual sightings, physical effects, and the presence of an animated creature. There is, I guess, a Seventh kind but. . . ."

"But what?"

Her confidence and certainty were replaced by discomfort. "It's, uh, unprecedented. There are cases where some people have claimed this happened but there's no real proof of it being real. It's basically just a theoretical encounter."

"Okay. . . ?" If she didn't want to tell me, that was fine, but she could have just said so.

"It basically means that there was the creation of a human/alien hybrid."

I made a face and Ava was quick to dismiss her own words. "But like I said, it's just theoretical. It's never actually happened. Everything from first to sixth has, but never the seventh that we know of. It pretty much just exists as a 'possibility'."

"Well, I guess that's a relief," I muttered.

 _Great,_  I thought to myself, glowering at the walls. Now I had to consider whether or not Wolf intended on abducting and using me in some sort of  _breeding_  experiment. I shuddered at the thought.

Nodding, Ava promptly tried to change the subject. "Now, I do have some pamphlets I'd like to go over with you. Mostly, they just explain ways to manage your anxiety and stress, in case your trauma starts to manifest."

She pulled a few of said pamphlets out of the folder sitting on her lap and handed them over. For the rest of the short time we had left, we went through them together.


	21. The Deepest Scars

Dreams are weird. Depending on the atmosphere and tone it could be a happy dream or a complete nightmare. I've had some before that might have been scary, but because my subconscious didn't intend for them to be that way, they weren't.

I've had dreams that should have been innocent enough—a family dinner interrupted by a strange light—but I had woken up terrified out of my mind for no apparent reason.

Other dreams that should have been terrifying, like running away from an intruder, were only intense, like watching a crime thriller movie. Sometimes, I didn't even participate in my dreams. Instead, I'd take on the role of a bystander in my own mind.

The intent of my dreams now was definitely  _horror_.

Waking up from a nightmare isn't like what you see in the movies, either. The closest thing to the movies is night terrors, but you don't wake up from a night terror. All you do is scream and scream and no one can comfort or wake you—you're trapped there in your own mind, tormented, until it goes away or until another one takes its place. The only consolation is that you're not supposed to remember a night terror.

Usually, you remember nightmares.

Maybe not the whole thing, but enough of it. Your only hope is that it fades away once you've awoken, giving you even the smallest bit of relief.

Until you fall back asleep.

All I wanted was to get some sleep before the big press conference. To be  _alert_  when I was being bombarded with questions.

Before heading to bed, I took some of the pills that the doctors had given me. Not only did they help assuage some of my anxiety, but it helped me relax. There weren't many comfortable positions for me to sleep in with my legs still mending. If I could have, I wouldn't have slept at all to avoid the nightmares. However, killing myself through lack of sleep wasn't an option.

When I was little, I would always sleep with a nightlight. Once again I was considering it, but I didn't want to fall back on that old crutch. Not when I hadn't used one in years.

What was a nightmare compared to the real thing, anyway?

*:･ﾟ✧

I could hear squealing coming from the dark. It grew louder and louder until it was right in my ear. Right on top of me.

_There's something wrong._

The ship had been destroyed, all the eggs killed and the queen dead. There wasn't anything for me to be afraid of anymore.

_Right?_

Then why did it feel like that wasn't true? Why was I staring at a thin, looming shadow just at the edge of my bed? It wouldn't come into focus, but it was there all the same. A dark, blurry shadow that hissed. I tried to open my mouth to scream, tried to recoil to the wall where I could protect myself, but my body wouldn't move.

My bed was beneath me. I could  _feel_  it, but my mind wasn't convinced it was real.

I'd thought for sure that I was awake. I was in my room—the door was right there, a sliver of light seeping out from the crack over the floor.

_Then why can't I move?_

Inside my ribcage, my heart was beating a mile a minute, constricting my chest like a vice. At least the dream didn't last much longer. I was finally able to blink, and by the time I opened my eyes again, the phantasm was gone. The shadows in my room started to take shape—my dresser and computer desk, my varsity jacket hanging from the doorknob, and the pile of stuffed animals in the corner next to my closet.

Finally able to move, I slid closer to the wall and further from the edge of my bed, eyes darting around my room to look for more danger. Fear still held me captive as I searched for the drone that had invaded my room, but there was nothing.

When I lifted my hand to brush the hair from my face, my fingers came away wet. I rubbed the tears from my eyes and focused on gaining control of my breathing.

The lights. I needed to turn on the lights.

_How? I can't leave my bed—it's safe in my bed._

I spread out on my stomach and groped around until I felt the handle of one of my crutches. My heart was still racing and I felt like turning on the lights was life or death. All I could think was that I should have put on a stupid night light.

Maybe I could throw something at the light switch. All I had around me was the one pillow I slept on and then my alarm clock. Out of options, I took my crutches again. It looked like I was going to have to leave my bed, leave the safety and warmth and security. I'd always been under the belief that you were safe so long as you had blankets on and were fully on the bed.

It was all ridiculous. There was nothing in my room except my own belongings. And yet, I still expected something to leap out and attack me at a moment's notice. I was the only  _living_  thing in the room! I had nothing to worry about.

Taking a deep breath, I tucked my arms under the crutches and hobbled across the room. I slapped the switch and illuminated every last corner in my room.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

After I swallowed the lump in my throat, I leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor, one hand covering my face. For a few minutes, I sat like that, taking deep breaths and trying not to cry. The nightmare-induced tears had stopped, at least, and I was able to wipe the last traces away.

A scratching at the door startled me and I managed to clamp my mouth shut to keep from screaming. I held my hands over my mouth, eyes closed, and waited.

The scratching came again and my heart jumped into my throat. Slowly, through trembling shoulders and shaky knees, I lowered my hands and leaned forward enough to look at the door. On the other side, a shadow paced back and forth.

There was something there.

My breath refused to catch and I clutched at my crutch, pulling it up and against me. It was a pretty solid piece of metal—I should be able to use it.

However, before I could work up the courage to open it up and smack whatever was on the other side with my crutch, the scratching started again and was followed by a familiar whining. Then, an even more familiar sniffing.

_Stupid dog!_

I was finally able to relax and I pulled myself up to turn the knob. Our black lab didn't let the door finish opening before he was rushing in. "Shh, Atlas, you're going to wake up the whole house."

Ignoring me, Atlas paced my room for several minutes with his nose glued to the ground. He wasn't quiet about it, so I was forced to shut my bedroom door so he wouldn't wake anyone. No matter what I did to try and bring him back to my side, he paced and searched until he seemed satisfied.

"Find anything, boy?" I cooed, my voice subdued. Even though the last vestiges of the nightmare had receded into the deep recesses of my mind, I couldn't help my wandering eyes.

He bounded up and stood in front of me, his whole body shaking with the vigorous way he wagged his tail. He knew better than to try to jump on me and instead set a single paw atop my knee and licked at my hand. I sighed and gave him the pats he was looking for and rubbed his floppy ears until he stopped whining and sat down.

The effect his presence had was instantaneous. Fear seeped out of my body and I watched him as he leaned into my hand and panted, looking up at me with his dark eyes, as if asking if I was okay.

"It's alright boy. Only a dream," I murmured.

I continued to pet and murmur nonsense to my knight in shining fur, allowing myself time to calm down. Atlas wasn't the most well-behaved dog, but he seemed to have realized enough to know that I needed him to be still. The occasional warm, slobbery kiss on my hand was not unwelcome, either. He usually slept in his kennel in the living room, kept open so he could leave in case he needed a drink.

Had I been making that much noise while I was dreaming that he would come to see me?

My dog reared back and put his second paw on my lap and shuffled forward so he could set his head down over his paws. I still couldn't bring a smile to my face, but at least I was no longer terrified.

The adrenaline rush ebbed and exhaustion set back in. I pushed Atlas back to the floor and hobbled back to bed, leaving the light on. He followed after me, his tail wagging as if to reassure me. Now that I wasn't half asleep and running from hallucinations, it was easier to crawl into bed than it had been to crawl out of it.

It took a lot of grunting and hissing in pain, but I managed to twist into a position I could sleep in and I flopped down onto my pillow. I had intentionally left my overhead lights on to help me sleep like I was a child afraid of the dark.

_Nichole, the girl who fought through a hive of vicious, parasitic aliens couldn't sleep without the lights on in her room._

At least Wolf wasn't there to see me. I could already imagine that disdainful way he'd turn his head, the way he'd grumble. Well screw him, he was trained to go through this kind of shit. I was going to have to deal with this the way humans dealt with it.

Years of therapy.

I turned my head away from my pillow to keep from suffocating and was met with the wide, flat tongue belonging to my dog. Groaning, I turned away with a jerk and pushed his muzzle away from my face. "Atlas, oh my god."

He huffed in response and I felt the bed sag as he leaped onto it. Then he buried his nose in my hair and whuffed around, tangling the strands and covering my head with slobber.

"Atlas," I whined, turning my head and pushing furiously on his nose.

Finally, he pulled back and then pawed at my shoulder. I sighed and rolled the best I could onto my side and laid my hand on his ribs. "If you want to sleep in my bed you're going to have to behave."

Atlas cocked his head to the side and clicked his teeth together. I watched him a moment, then pushed myself closer to the wall to allow him more space to spread out. I had a double-size bed so there wasn't a whole lot of room, but at least enough that the two of us should have been able to find comfort. I pat the space next to me and Atlas shimmied forward until he could lay his head on the pillow, then he glanced at me.

"It's alright, boy. . .just for tonight," I said, pausing long enough to yawn.

There was a moment where I fought to yank the comforter out from under the fat lard, but I finally managed to pull enough free to cover myself and settled in for a hard night.

Atlas let out a sigh of content and I put my arm around his shoulders, burying my face in his neck. He smelled like dirt and his musty blanket, but it didn't bother me. Even when we gave him baths he never quite smelled clean.

I was much more relaxed lying there with something fuzzy and warm and  _alive_  right there with me. Now I could tell myself that if anything were to come and attack me, Atlas would be the first to know. He would be the first alarm to start going off. Maybe he wouldn't be able to protect me, but at least he would be able to give me some warning.

There wasn't much I could do for myself, either. Not in my condition.

But fuck it. If I could, I'd go down swinging. Not taken in my sleep.

Occasionally the house made sounds, or the wind hit the walls wrong, and every time it brought me further from sleep. I'd cling harder to Atlas and clench my eyes shut.

Then he'd turn his head enough to lick my face and I'd relax again.

Eventually, I fell asleep. Throughout the night, nightmares continued to wake me up. Each time it happened, I groped blindly until I felt Atlas' fur at my fingertips, curled up in the crook of my legs, acting as a support. He would lick my hand in response, and then I'd bury myself further under my comforter. Happened almost every hour, like clockwork.

It was still better sleep than anything I'd had since coming home.

*:･ﾟ✧

Fingers gripped my arm. They tugged and shook at me without urgency. I tried to take my arm back, but the fingers wouldn't relent. I just needed a little more rest—surely Wolf could begrudge me even the smallest amount of shut-eye after. . . .

"Sweetie?"

That wasn't Wolf.

I cracked open one eye and then the next before propping my torso up on my arms to look around. The familiar weight of Atlas at my side was gone, and I fought to blink away the last vestiges of sleep from my vision.

"Honey it's Mom." She moved her hand from my arm to my shoulder. "You're alright. You were having a bad dream, sweetie."

Finally, I managed to clear my sight and found myself staring at my mother. She was red-faced and failing to hide the tears she'd shed. I glanced around one last time, then wiped away some drool from the corner of my mouth and rubbed my face to try and look presentable. Mom waited silently, smoothing my hair back, as I chased away the last traces of my dream.

"I didn't mean to startle you," she said, her face taut with worry.

"Sorry," I muttered. I sat back and glanced at the clock on my nightstand with squinted eyes.

Seven in the morning. Two hours until the conference. I wondered if there was any way for me to weasel out of going, but there probably wasn't.

"Oh baby I can't stand to see you like this," she wailed, pulling me into an embrace. Her voice was heavy like she'd been holding back from crying. I grunted and shifted into a more comfortable position. "There has to be something I can do to help."

The hopelessness in her voice brought on a fresh wave of emotions. "What do you mean?"

"You were screaming—I didn't know what to do. . .what I should do."

I inhaled deeply and pulled away from her so I could sit up on my own. "Just being home is enough. I'll be okay."

_Liar._

"I don't even remember. Where's Atlas?" I asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Mom pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled. "He ran outside when I opened your door. Did he sleep in here all night?"

"Most of it. That okay?" I knew it would be, but for some reason, I asked anyway.

"Of course, sweetie. He can sleep in here as long as you need him to." She fussed over my stray locks some more and I shooed her away with an errant wave of my hand. "Did you sleep better with him in here?"

I was glad she had yet to mention the light. It was turned off now, though, so she had to have noticed it. "I guess, maybe a little."

"Then yeah, it's okay if Atlas sleeps in here."

After a moment I pulled further away from her. There was a time when her loving embrace was all it took to make me feel better, but this wasn't a scraped knee or some mean words from a friend that was causing me distress. "I should get up and shower and get dressed. . .do we have to drive out there or will the agents come and get us?"

My mom kissed the top of my head and then stood up. "We're going to follow them out to the town hall when they get here a little after eight." When I didn't immediately respond, she sighed and smiled at me. "I'm sure we don't have to go if you really don't want to."

 _Yeah, right. I wish._  "I'm fine. Hand me my crutches, please?"

After giving me what I asked for, Mom moved to watch from my door and supervise. I took a few seconds to stretch and yawn, then I stood up with the help of the crutches. My legs were stiff and sore, but they cooperated for the most part. I tried my best to ignore her stare as I wandered about my room, picking out clothes that would keep me warm and still make me look classy for my  _big TV debut_. The longer the silence dragged on, though, the more irritated I started to feel. A heat rose to my cheeks and I finally snapped.

"What, Mom?" I demanded, a little harsher than had been my intention.

Though I wasn't looking directly at her, I could see how she recoiled and it made me hate myself even more. "Nothing. I just wanted to stay nearby in case you needed some help."

No matter how much I tried, I couldn't keep the venom from lacing my words. "Well, I don't. My legs are broken, not paralyzed." I sighed and rubbed my face. "I'll call you if I need anything, okay? I don't need you to hover over me."

Her hands fluttered to her chest and she looked ready to reprimand my attitude. I braced myself for the lecture, but instead, her shoulders slumped in defeat and her hands swung limply at her sides.

"I'm sorry sweetie. Just holler if you need me," she said, turning to leave.

I watched her go, regret knotting my stomach, then I sighed and slumped back onto my bed, hand covering my face. She wasn't the target of my scorn, only a convenient outlet. If I was going to keep from isolating myself from my family, I was going to have to watch my temper.

After a moment of reflection, I vowed to apologize later and finished readying my outfit before heading to the bathroom.

Even with crutches, stairs were difficult, but I could at least move across the hall with ease. I stopped at the top of the steps to look down to the living room. Mom had already made it and was sitting on the couch with Dad.

For a moment, I contemplated going down and apologizing right then, but I didn't want to struggle to navigate the staircase.

Later, for sure.

Alan poked his head out of his room as I passed. "You need help?" he asked meekly.

"No, thanks bud," I muttered. He shrugged and ducked back inside.

Kristie was nowhere to be seen, probably locked away in her room for the foreseeable future, grounded until she was 21. I hadn't talked to her at all since coming home.

My parents had bought a shower helper for me to sit on so I could bathe, though I tried to stand for as long as I could before giving in. I had to keep the incision site clean at all times, so I spent a lot of my shower doing just that. It was a pain in the ass because it was still kind of sore and tender, but they had already taken out the sutures before I'd left the hospital.

It was better than adding an unnecessary infection and sepsis to the list of shit that was wrong with me, though.

The healing was coming along, though; my legs weren't so swollen and bruised.

Dressing was the easiest part since I only had to stand in order to put on my pants. Everything else I could do while seated.

I put on my nicest turtleneck shirt—black with dark gray stripes—and broke out my dressiest winter jacket—a purple coat with shiny buttons and large cuffs. I was just going to wear whatever shoes I had that would be comfortable. Heels and broken legs didn't really go together.

When I was all done, I hobbled once again to the top of the stairs and stared down. The crutches just made it harder, usually, so instead of trying to maneuver my way down with them, I just slid them along the steps until they hit the floor at the bottom. I winced at the clatter of sound they created and waited for my parents.

"Nichole? Are you alright?" Mom called. A chair in the kitchen scraped against the tile. Dad made it, first, since he'd just ben sitting on the couch. Mom followed a few paces behind him, looking worried, frightened even. Both of them relaxed when they realized I wasn't in any danger.

"Yeah, just. . .coming down the stairs," I answered.

Forcing air out between my lips, I grabbed the railing and started the descent into the living room landing.

Dad moved to the bottom step and asked, "Do you need help?"

"No, Dad. Might just take me a second."

Nodding, he returned to the couch but didn't take a seat. Mom ducked close enough to grab my crutches so I wouldn't trip on them. I thanked her and managed not to roll my eyes, though the urge was there, strong and ever-present.

 _They're just trying to help,_ I told myself.

When I made it down, she handed them to me promptly. "Thanks," I muttered.

The smell of French Toast wafted to my nose and I inhaled the scent. It brightened my mood and I looked up at my mom. "You made French Toast?"

"It's your favorite, right?" she confirmed, beaming.

My brother and sister—Allen and Kristie—were already at the table with plates full of delicious toast. I made haste to the table, sparing a quick glance at Kristie, but she was making a point to ignore me. Well, I wasn't about to let that bother me so I leaned my crutches against the table and took a seat.

"Are you ready for today?" Dad asked.

"I think so."

When he attempted to push my chair into the table, I waved him off and huffed. "I got it!"

He pulled back, hands up, and I felt everyone's eyes on me as I scotched my seat closer so I could eat. I managed it okay when I pushed off the floor with one of my legs, even though it made me wince in pain. Ignoring it, I sat straight and glared at the empty plate Mom had set in front of me.

"See?" I muttered.

My dad sighed and forced a smile at me. "I never doubted you, Nichole."

"Here's some breakfast for my strong baby!" Mom sang, forking two slices of French Toast onto my plate. She pushed the tub of butter and bottle of her homemade syrup close by and I gathered up the silverware that Dad handed me.

It had been years since they'd waited on me like this and I felt my cheeks flush with heat. They were only trying to help, and I understood that, but I wasn't an invalid.

All I wanted was to be treated normally.

To make matters worse, I could sense Kristie's wrathful glare boring into me, as if she was trying to set me on fire with her eyes. Neither of us thought that I deserved this kind of treatment, considering what I'd done to find myself in this situation.

"How are your legs?" Alan asked around a mouthful of toast.

"A little achy, but I haven't needed to take my painkillers yet," I said, buttering up my own toast.

Nodding, my brother swallowed and took a swig of orange juice. "Do you get to stay out of school for a while?"

The question made me chuckle humorlessly. My mouth moved up and down, but in the end, I chose not to answer the question and instead doused my meal in fresh syrup. Alan was using the store-bought bottle my mom kept around, though I couldn't fathom why: there was nothing better than homemade syrup.

However, he wasn't going to let me avoid the question. "How long do you get to miss school?"

"I don't know," I replied, sharper than I'd meant. The tendons in my jaw tensed as I tried to control my emotions.

"I wish I got to skip school," he muttered.

Kristie glanced at him, but I felt her dark eyes fall back to me. She answered in a flat voice. "School's closed for another week."

Alan looked back down at his food. "Oh."

Mom set down a glass of orange juice in front of me and then parked herself in her own chair next to my dad to eat. His position was at the head of the table. He glanced over and flicked my brother's elbow. "Don't eat with your elbows on the table, and stop pestering your sister."

Alan grumbled but did as he was told.

As well fell into silence, I felt like a stranger sitting at that table like this wasn't my house. The tension in the air was palpable and I thought maybe it would be better if I went to eat in my room. Alan might not have known what was going on, how exactly I'd hurt my legs, but everyone else did. Kristie obviously had some sort of beef with me. Maybe she was mad at all the attention and special treatment they were giving me.

That first bite of French Toast hit me like a brick. It tasted like old memories, of laughter we'd shared and a happiness I'd never feel again. I was undeserving of their doting and such a delicious meal, and the only thing I should have been eating was buttered toast and water—prison food, my dad had always joked.

Tears sprang to my eyes before I could try to control myself. I swallowed that first bite like it was made out of lead and slowly lowered my wrists to rest against the table, one in a brace and one not.

Bite after bite I forced myself to take but I couldn't enjoy it, not like I wanted to. I had wanted to sit at the table and eat like we were a family again, but Alan was going on about how unfair it was that my sister and I were allowed to miss school and he wasn't. Kristie wouldn't stop glancing at me every now and again. My parents jumped like loaded springs every time I moved, hyper-aware of me and whatever needs they fabricated to help with.

Though I tried my best to hide them, the tears came without permission. I sniffed quietly and forced my jaw to chew the food I was shoveling in.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Mom asked, her fingertips brushing against my upper arm.

I clenched my eyes shut and wiped my tears on my shoulder. "S'fine," I slurred, ducking my head and forcing large chunks of sodden toast into my mouth.

Now everyone was staring at me.

How could I have thought everything was going to be okay? There were too many emotions roiling inside me; relief, guilt, anger, anguish, and so many more. I had to go out in a little over an hour and listen to some government agent drone on about the incident as if it had been a completely different situation, then field questions. And here I was, unable to even handle breakfast.

"Sweetie," Mom crooned.

My sister stood abruptly and fled the kitchen without a word. I didn't look up from my plate, but my mom shot to her feet, reaching out as if to stop my sibling. "Kristie, what's the matter?"

If she responded, I didn't hear it. I put my hand on my head and attempted to stomach another mouthful of my meal, but a fresh wave of tears was spilling over my cheeks. I sniffled and fought back the sobs, smothering them with food.

"What's wrong with Nichole?" Alan asked.

Dad hushed him and he sank into his chair, pouting. "Finish up so I can take you to school, okay? We'll tell you later."

"It's always later," he mumbled, finishing his glass of juice and scraping up the last traces of syrup onto what remained of his breakfast. A prong on the fork caught the porcelain at the right—or wrong—angle and made a sharp squealing sound.

Instantly, my flight or fight response kicked in and I felt my spine go rigid. I shunted to my feet, much to the protest of my legs, and nearly knocked my chair over in the process. My crutches weren't so lucky, however, and they hit the floor with an awful noise. The kitchen was no longer there, nor were the members of my families.

_Which way—where is it coming from—it's too dark—I can't see—_

_Ebony chitin and silver teeth, a barbed tail arched high over its back—it was waiting, it was somewhere—it had to be—_

Mom's voice cut through me and I swung my arm without thinking when she set her hand gingerly down on my shoulder. She let out a surprised gasp and stumbled away from me, almost falling over in the process.

"Baby—baby it's okay!" she insisted.

Everything came back to me within a few nanoseconds, but the damage had already been done. My entire body was trembling, every muscle was tense and ready for a fight as I fought to catch my breath. I hadn't realized it at first, but I was brandishing my fork like a weapon.

I'd lashed out at my own  _mother_  with it. My goddamn  _fork_.

Alan was looking at me like I'd sprouted a second head and my dad was too busy checking on Mom to deal with me for the moment. I limped away from her a pace or two and dropped the fork, my other hand flitting up to cover my mouth in disbelief.

My lip quivered as I said, "Mom, I—I didn't—"

"I'm fine, she didn't hit me," she told Dad, pushing him away from her. "Just caught me by surprise, that's all."

The pressure behind my eyes exploded and I broke out in a sob that drove me to my knees.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I'm so—I didn't—"

Mom moved passed Dad and crouched to put her arms around me. Dad stood nearby, but he didn't venture any closer except to pick up the fork I'd dropped and put it back on the table. Alan was on his feet, only understanding that his sister was in anguish about something.

"Is Nichole okay?" he asked.

"She's going to be fine, Alan," my mom said through her own tears. "You're alright, baby girl. Mommy's got you. She knows you didn't mean it, everything's okay, shh. . .shh it's okay, it's okay."

I wasn't sure who she was trying to convince more.


	22. Faces of your Peers

I'd never been inside the town hall. It didn't look like it should be able to house a bunch of people when I looked at it from outside, but the meeting room was full to the brim. Camera crews stood off to the sides with their gear set up, making it hard for people to traverse the theater-style staircases to find a seat. Members of the press were front and center, taking up the first three rows.

To my surprise, there was a great number of citizens occupying those seats. It was less than I'd been expecting but only because I'd thought we'd be outside and the entire town would show up, plus those from other towns—I had kind of let my imagination run away.

It wasn't the first time I'd stood before a crowd. However, my elementary school recitals hadn't quite prepared me for something of this magnitude. That sort of audience had only been parents dragged in to watch their child dance and sing (probably horribly) to support the school and their excited kids.

People weren't the problem. I could handle people. It was the cameras that had me the most nervous and the reason for being there.

The man in charge was standing at the far side of the stage, talking in undertones to the agents assigned to my case. A low murmur occupied the meeting room while they waited for him to start, and the occasional click of a shutter had me staring at my lap.

I was behind the podium, off to the side so people could see me. They'd allowed me to sit there with my parents, and my mom was holding my hand tight enough to hurt. A few men in suits I didn't know were standing at ease behind my family and me as if we needed guards posted nearby. Even the chief of police was at attention with some of his esteemed officers at his side, on the opposite side of the stage from us. Other policemen were threaded throughout the crowd as added protection.

What we needed protection  _from_  I had no idea.

Finally, the man that I assumed was Rawlins' and Cooper's superior, approached the stand. He was wearing a decorated uniform and exuded a confidence I wish I felt. He checked to make sure the microphones were on and waited for some of the side chat to end before he started speaking.

"Thank you all for coming," he began. The last few members of the audience quieted to listen. "I am Chris Dixon of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. As you all know, not too long ago a tragedy befell the town of Estes Park, Colorado. A small task force had been sent to the Rocky Mountain National Park to investigate what we had thought was a plane that had crashed into the mountain. When that task force never returned, the military got involved."

Immediately the questions started, but Dixon raised his hand and spoke above the crowd. "Please hold all questions until the end."

After a moment, everyone gathered quieted down and Dixon continued with his speech. "Despite the warnings, several students from Estes Park High School went missing the night of the incident, investigating grandiose rumors. A few escaped the park before being captured, but we number the missing casualties at nearly thirty people plus an entire military squad."

The color drained from my face and my fist clenched as I digested this information. I didn't even hear the rest of his speech as I tried to do the math in my head.

Well over thirty people had to have been on that ship.

_So many of those drones—what if we didn't—what if they're still—_

Of course, it didn't mean that it was the exact number of aliens. I had destroyed a whole room of those eggs, but that meant that there had been people in there that maybe I could have saved. Unless of course there were more eggs than people, which was a distinct possibility. . . .

_The Queen sat atop her ovipositor, birthing an egg every few minutes. A drone would come by and carry it off, where it would wait for a victim._

So many more eggs.

How many of those aliens had Wolf and I killed? A dozen, maybe, not counting anything he'd killed during times of our separation. I couldn't remember all of them, and I was sure Brutus had killed a good number of them before we met up, but I wasn't sure the number was that high.

 _What if there were any of them wandering the woods looking for potential hosts to take? What if they're_ still _out there, lost and confused and looking for their Queen?_

_They could still be so dangerous!_

Panic rose like high tide in my chest as my thoughts ran amok and I looked around, trying to find someone to ask, to warn. I hadn't found the chance to explain to anyone how these aliens worked—they wouldn't know to be careful in those woods, wouldn't know how deadly they could be.

_Will they be able to function without their queen?_

Mom noticed my agitation and leaned down next to me, giving my hand an extra squeeze. "Sweetie what's the matter?" she whispered in my ear.

I shook my head and took a few deep breaths to calm down. If I wanted to, I could have popped a few anxiety pills Ava had prescribed me, but the last thing I wanted was to develop a dependency on a bunch of narcotics to make me feel better. I hadn't even been taking painkillers unless it was so bad I could hardly function.

Though Mom didn't seem convinced, she sat back in her chair all the same.

". . .Nichole Shain is the currently the only survivor from the domestic terrorists' attack. She was discovered by Jamison Mendes when his team went into the woods following a massive explosion they witnessed while sweeping over the park in a helicopter. "

Shit, how much had I missed when I had spaced out? I knew the story, but if this Dixon guy decided to practice his improv and change some of the stories, I wouldn't have any idea.

"If she feels up to it, Nichole will now take your questions. She is still recovering, so we're going to keep it to five questions, and then I will field the rest. Nichole?" Dixon said, lifting his arm in a welcoming gesture and stepping away from the podium.

My blood pressure spiked, but I still gathered my crutches and joined him at the podium. He made room for me but stood close enough to put his hand on my shoulder.

No one had prepared me for this. All I had was some notecards in my pocket and all of the agents' coaching to see me through. I'd thought I would only field questions  _if_  any were directed at me, not that the press would be given the chance to bombard me.

After pulling out my cheat notes and spreading them out on the stand—there was only a handful, so they fit well enough—I cleared my throat and leaned toward the microphones.

 _Fuck, why me, why me?_ I thought, trying to ignore the hair standing up on my neck.

_So many people!_

"Hello?" I started, wincing when the speakers screeched loudly with feedback. I pulled away from them a few inches and tried again. "Sorry."

Thankfully, no one started laughing at me.

Hands went up and everyone clamored for my attention at the same time, shouting my name and anything else they thought would work. I scanned the crowd and then picked out a gentle-looking woman who had a pen in her hand. "Uh—y-yes, the lady with the. . .yellow jacket." My own voice bounced around in my skull.

Everyone's hands went down and the red-headed woman I had picked out stood and loudly asked, "Yes, Nichole, I think everyone here wants to know, how did you escape?"

While I tried to remember how I was supposed to respond, my mouth moved up and down. My mind drew a blank and I panicked for a moment while I scanned the cards I'd made up. I took a breath and glanced up at Mr. Dixon, looking for any sort of cue. He merely smiled and gave me a reassuring nod. After finding some help from that and my notes, I answered.

"There was. . .a soldier there, one of the, uh, of the missing ones. His name was, um, Anderson. He talked to me, kept me," I swallowed hard, "calm and. . .told me how we could escape."

 _Anderson' pained face, the calm in his voice despite the situation, telling me how to escape my bonds._  I closed my eyes against the vision and forced down the lump in my throat. The reporters waited for me to continue, and I was glad I had thought to give that man some recognition.

Really, though, I was disguising Wolf.

"He. . .he risked his life helping me and some others to escape but. . .but the others were. . .gunned down, including Anderson."

 _Wolf, leading me and my friends down those corridors despite knowing they were all dead. Jess panting, doubled over in pain._ Once again I clenched my eyes closed and balled my hands into fists. Mr. Dixon gave me a pat, but it didn't help much.

_That cop, turning his gun on Michelle and Jason—the sound of his weapon discharging rattles my skull inside my head—_

I inhaled sharply and focused my vision on the crowd in front of me, their sympathetic gazes. They were with me on this, not against me. All they wanted was to hear my story. I couldn't give them the real thing, but I could at least give them something to work with.

Leaning against the podium, I willed the tears not to fall. It didn't work, but I could still speak.

"I. . .in my hurry to escape, I. . .didn't watch my step and fell down a rocky incline. But, uh, I managed to crawl away, to hide. . .until Mendes found me." My body was trembling, as was my voice, but the cards were seeing me through. "I recognized his. . .his uniform and. . .I uh, I don't remember much after that. Not—not until I was in the hospital."

 _Searing pain exploding in my legs as I landed. Wolf leaning over me, marking me with the blood of the aliens we had killed together._ The tears were falling a sob was lodged in my throat. I wiped away the moisture and averted my gaze.

Hopefully, I hadn't given enough information for them to scrutinize the story too much.

When no one else immediately jumped into asking another question, I realized they were waiting for me to say more. The redhead was already sitting. I looked around, caught my breath, and then leaned forward to speak again. "Oh, um, n-next question."

This time, I picked out a cute guy from the front row. He stepped up to ask his question, his hand raised slightly. "Why were you and your friends in the forest that night?"

_Good, an easy question I don't have to lie to answer. Why couldn't it have started like this?_

"We. . .thought there was an alien spaceship," I muttered in shame. "So we went to investigate and maybe. . .uh, find some aliens."

Chuckling rippled through the crowd and I ducked my head, glowering at the cards in front of me. A heat flushed across my cheeks. If they only knew that it  _had_  been aliens. Maybe then they wouldn't be laughing at me.

"Next question," I snapped.

They all clamored for my attention and I pointed blindly at a man in the middle. He caught my attention because he was probably six and a half feet tall and about as thin as I was. "You, uh, with the black hair and. . .green shirt."

He stood straighter and held his hand up. "Did you manage to overhear anything about another attack? Maybe where they were planning to hit next?"

The question caught me off guard and I floundered for an answer. A strangled noise came from my throat instead of words, and I looked around for someone to tell me how to respond, what to say. Dixon came to my aid a few seconds later, gently moving me aside so he could speak.

"Nichole is not at liberty to disclose that information. Please be assured that we are taking every precaution we can to ensure this doesn't happen again. Next question please."

Dixon stepped aside and motioned for me to continue. I shot him an appreciative nod and scanned the crowd for someone else to pick. I finally settled on a lady in an obnoxious pink overcoat. She pushed aside a few people and looked up, almost smug, to me.

"Why did they capture you?"

Taken aback, I scrambled to have her clarify. "I don't understand—"

"Was it because you stumbled upon their hideout? Were they going to use you all as leverage until their demands were met? What did they do to you while they had you?"

My throat closed and I felt the tears stinging my eyes, creating a pressure behind my eyes. Suddenly defensive, I answered her in the same rapid-fire manner of her questioning. "I don't know! They had us tied up in the dark and they didn't speak, they just—they took us away, one by one. I don't know what they wanted or why they were doing it, or what happened to those people when they were taken away!"

Once again, Dixon was taking control and pushed against me to speak into the microphones. "Alright alright, there will be no badgering her. Last question! You in the front, from Nine News."

I took a few deep breaths and hastily tried to erase my tears. The blonde lady Dixon had called on had a pen poised over a pocket notepad and she shouted her question to me. "How did you feel when you were picked up by the authorities?"

_They were going to kill him, or capture him. The one person who had protected me. He was ready to fight over me, though I wasn't sure why. But I couldn't let them hurt him, or let him hurt them._

"Relieved," I lied. "I was going to go home and see my family again. I just—"

Emotion overwhelmed me and I started to cry despite myself. "I just wish that—that I could have gotten my friends out, too. I tried—tried so hard but—but I couldn't." My voice was thick and my throat almost sealed shut around the words. "I. . .I can't apologize enough to—to the families—to my friends—I'm so. . .I'm so sorry. . . ."

Before I could collapse, Dixon grabbed me by the arms and another person took my crutches. I was led back to my seat where I dropped. Mom was quick to embrace me.

"You did great, baby—you did great," my mom cooed in my ear, sniffing.

When I didn't respond, she didn't force me to. On the stage, Dixon was fielding more questions from the press. Mom held me tight and Dad put his arm around the back of my chair to show his own support while I tried to collect myself and keep my sobbing quiet.

_Never again—nothing like this ever again._

*:･ﾟ✧

Late in the afternoon, someone came knocking at my bedroom door. I had holed myself up in my room to pout, watching the TV that my dad had hauled upstairs for me. I'd so far been successful at avoiding all of the news channels and sticking to mindless cartoons. I didn't want to watch any kind of program that made me think.

"Come in." I pulled the sheet up to my waist to hide the fact that I wasn't wearing pants.

When Kristie stepped passed the threshold, it came as a surprise to me. Usually, it was just Mom coming in to check up on me. Make sure I was still eating. "Oh. . .Kristie. . .what's up?"

She closed the door behind her. "Our school is closed until next week."

Kristie moved away from the door and leaned against the wall, her eyes narrowed slightly. This usually meant I was about to be given the third degree for  _something_ , but what she had to be upset with me about was beyond my knowledge.

"I know it wasn't  _terrorists_." She spat the word out like a bad taste.

Her sharp tongue was nothing new to me, so I ignored it. "What do you mean?"

"Allison and I were  _there_ , Nichole. Remember?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Maybe not  _with_ you, but we showed up and were in that park—we heard the screaming, and they definitely  _weren't human_. I want to know the  _truth._ "

I looked away from her and huffed. "I can't begin to imagine what you heard, but I already told everyone what happened."

She said, "You know what Allison thinks?"

"No," I snapped back. "How could I know?"

_Great, now the bickering starts._

To her credit, there was only the normal amount of venom to her words. Things hadn't quite started escalating like they usually did. "Those men you have to talk to—all the hush hush secret bullshit—those noises we heard—she thinks it was aliens."

Despite myself, I couldn't muster any conviction in my rebuttal. "Don't be ridiculous."

Her gaze sharpened like a cat with its prey in sight.

"So it is!"

With a scoff, I started to say, "You're being stupid—"

However, Kristie cut me off. "You  _have_ to tell the people at school! Allison and I have been trying to tell everyone, but they all think we're crazy. You could tell everyone the truth and they'd have to stop making fun of us!" she demanded, striding across the room like she was about to challenge me.

"Kristie, I  _already_  told everyone what happened. I don't want to talk about it anymore, or  _ever_." Why wouldn't she just drop it? I couldn't imagine what they were thinking trying to tell everyone that: surely the government had spoken to them. The only thing I could think was that they figured Kristie and her friend were just harmlessly spouting an unfounded rumor.

It would look more suspicious if they tried to shut my sister and her friend up. Whatever the case, I was going to be grilled about it the next time I saw the agents.

My sister threw her hands up and I flinched, fisting the blankets around me in a tight grip. "Watch it, Kristie," I warned, keeping my gaze level with her collarbones. She could berate me all she wanted, but if she were to try and get physical with me, I didn't know what I'd do.

What I  _did_  know was that she wasn't going to like it.

Ignoring my warning, she hissed, "Why are you lying? Tell me what happened!"

I said nothing.

"I'm your  _sister_! You can at least tell me."

"Drop it!" I snarled at last. Even though I was only arguing with my sister, my body was still trying to decide if I should fight or flee. It was all I could do to keep from flinging anything I could reach at Kristie to make her go away. "I don't want to talk about it, I don't even want to  _think_  about it! Just leave me alone and stop telling people ridiculous shit before you get yourselves, or  _me,_ into some real trouble! Okay?"

Briefly, rage burned in Kristie's eyes. My body tensed in preparation to fend off an incoming tantrum, but she stormed out of my room in a huff, slamming the door behind her. The frames on my wall shook from the force of it.

Once she was gone, I picked up one of the extra pillows Mom had found for me and tossed it at the door. The loss of back support had me sinking against the headboard, but I didn't care.

How ridiculous it was for me to think that everything was okay. I'd talked to the press and said all of the lies they wanted me to. Jess' mom had even visited an hour after the conference to give me a message. I hadn't spoken to her directly, too afraid to face her, but Mom had said she'd only had kind words to say. I wasn't sure if it was true or if Mom was just telling me that because it was what I needed to hear, but it had made me feel better none the less.

For a few hours, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. All I had to do was survive the interrogation the Men in Black had for me, and then it was smooth sailing. The therapist would help me through the trauma and I could go on living.

Semi-normally.

Wolf wasn't going to come back, I already knew that. How would he find me even if he wanted to? Even if he  _did_  come back, he wouldn't want me anymore anyway. Not with how  _broken_  I was.

Maybe I'd even start to fit back in at school. I only had a year left after this, I could survive that long and find a job somewhere, go to college maybe. Leave this horrible place behind forever. Maybe I'd have a shot at a normal life.

That was a long time coming, though. My sister was going to laud this over me for who knew how long. She had a tendency to hold grudges.

Another knock pulled me from my thoughts and I lifted my head. "What?"

My mom peeked her head in the door and peered around, making me feel guilty for the way I'd answered the door. "Is everything okay? I heard your door slam," she said.

I nodded and relaxed. "It was just Kristie."

Mom opened the door further and took a step inside. "And what did your sister want?"

"I don't know," I lied. "Can you hand me that pillow please?"

The pillow in question was still slumped against the door. Mom leaned down and picked it up with one hand. "Don't worry about your sister, she's still just a little shaken up, probably with how close she was to. . . ," she trailed off and motioned for me to move so she could place the pillow.

"Yeah, sure." I did as she indicated and shifted until I was comfortable.

She flitted about my room like a hummingbird for a few minutes, straightening up my knickknacks and picking up stray clothes. Even though I was just observing, it made me tired.

"Mom."

Her response was a distracting hum. She barely even glanced over her shoulder at me.

Sighing, I rubbed my eyes. "Mom, I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier."

"That's alright, sweetie," she said, picking up my laundry hamper. She tucked it against her hip and finally turned to face me. "We're all under a lot of stress and you went through so much. Did you want to come down and watch TV in the living room with everyone?"

I shook my head and glanced away from her. "No, I just want to be alone for a while."

She nodded and walked over to give me a kiss on the forehead. "Just holler if you need me, okay? Tomorrow while you're in therapy I'll go pick you up a new cell phone."

"Sure. Thanks, Mom."  _Therapy. Right._

"You're welcome sweetie." She stood in the doorway a moment longer, just to be sure I didn't think of something last minute, and then closed up as she left. I stared at the spot she'd disappeared for a heartbeat and then turned my gaze to the window—

—and wondered where I could have been right now instead of in my room.

How far away from everything I  _could_  be if only I'd been allowed to stay with Wolf and Brutus. What I'd be doing instead of wilting in my bed, wondering when my sister was going to corner me next or what I was going to do when I went back to school.

Maybe I'd be dealing with Wolf's jibes and jabs. That would be better than any bullshit conference. Hell, even being slapped around while he attempted to coach me would have been preferable to Agent Rawlins and Cooper interrogating me like I'd done something  _wrong_. I mean, I might have a little bit, but still.

None of that mattered, though, because I was stuck in my room.

I was waiting for the next moment my sister would work up the nerve to demand answers. I was stuck dancing around the entire issue when my brother was around, not knowing whether or not I could tell him even the government-sanctioned story.

Stuck with the nightmares.

The stares.

Trying to pretend I was alright. That I hadn't viciously attacked my mother with a fork because a noise had startled me.

Eyes closed, I forced myself to focus on Spongebob's inane giggle.

 _You're not fine now, but you will be,_  I promised myself.


	23. Defiant to the End

Instead of inside Ava's normal office, the building's meeting room was acting as our interrogation slash therapy session. It was the only place big enough where everyone could sit, and I was guessing we needed the table space, too, if the thick file in front of them was any indication. The agents were seated across from me and Ava was a few chairs away.

Of course they wouldn't call it an interrogation, but if it walked like a duck and quacked like a duck, it was a duck.

"Tell us about the alien that was with you when Mendes found you."

Agent Rawlins' question caught me off-guard and I looked up from the table at him, a familiar pit forming in my stomach. I'd thought they'd be asking me more about the black bugs. The things that had actually been making an active effort to kill and abduct the townsfolk. I supposed it would have only been a matter of time but—I hadn't expected it to be this soon.

I couldn't even just walk away. Sure, my crutches were nearby, but a toddler could catch up to me on those stupid things. Federal agents tended to freak out if you tried to escape when they were in the middle of questioning you, anyway.

At least Ava was nearby, my watchful guardian. Apparently, since I couldn't have my parents sitting in on my interrogation like I was supposed to, Ava was the next best thing.

She was never shy about letting them know when they were out of line.

"What do you mean?" I asked, stalling.

Rawlins was sitting straight, contrasting to Cooper's more lax posture, his arm draped over the back of his seat as he lounged. It was Cooper who spoke next. "We know you were with another alien species when Mendes found you. There were some. . .interesting reports of the time of your rescue," he elaborated, one eyebrow quirked.

Shrugging, I tried to keep my response nonchalant. "What do you want to know?"

"They didn't see much of it, but there may have been more than one. We just need you to fill in some of the gaps—what was it, how many where there, and what they were doing with you," Rawlins said, cutting off his partner.

Biting my lip, I looked between the two of them and tried to figure out how much I wanted to tell them. It took a moment, but I eventually responded, "There were two of them, but a lot more on the ship. . .mostly dead, I think. From the crash. I think they were the ones who owned the ship, and the other things were stowaways?"

Cooper scribbled down my response while Rawlings made a follow-up question. "And what were they doing with you there?"

Again, it took a while for me to answer. I kept my eyes down at the desk in front of me and fidgeted until I decided that the truth wouldn't hurt. Maybe it would help—maybe they'd believe that Wolf and his were. . .maybe not peaceful, but didn't mean us immediate harm.

The skulls hung up in that trophy room meant they certainly meant us  _some harm_ , but at least not until they were rescued or something.

"They, um, they were helping me," I muttered.

"What?" Cooper scoffed, tearing his gaze away from his notepad.

Heat rose to my cheeks and I squeezed my hands together. "Well, I mean, one of them did. The other tried to kill me at some point but I mean, he didn't—but yeah, I'd be dead if the one hadn't let me follow him around."

"Why would it do that, Nichole?" Rawlins asked, not unkindly.

"How should I know?" I retorted, finally meeting their gazes, if only for a few seconds. "He couldn't speak, so it's not like I could have asked him."

The two agents shared significant glances and then Rawlins flitted through the file, pulling several sheets out and laying them in a stack in front of him. I craned my neck to see, but the angle was all wrong for peeking.

It didn't matter, though, because he picked a few out and slid them across the table to me. "Does this look like him?"

Suspicious, I pulled the sheets closer and scanned them. The muscles in my jaw tensed and I sucked in a breath. The picture was from a distance, but it pictured the hulking mass of someone of Wolf's species, in what looked like a slaughterhouse. Beneath that one, there was an artists' rendering of what the face looked like without a mask.

Crude, but accurate.

"I mean. . . yeah, I guess. How did you. . .?" It didn't look like Wolf—well it did, but I knew it wasn't. I had spent enough time with him to know the shape of his body, the way he held himself. This one was all wrong.

Cooper took the images from me and set them aside. "We've been tracking his kind since before you were born."

My eyebrows shot up. "Wuh—what?"

Rawlins handed the pile of papers over to Cooper who started to thumb through them. "We only have a handful of documented encounters, but we believe they've been coming here for quite some time," Cooper said.

"You haven't tried to stop them or initiate contact?" I asked.

"The government believes it's best to let them do their thing. They kill maybe a dozen or two people every decade. If we were to engage and really attempt to stop them. . .it would likely spark a war that we would not win."

"They—they what?" I asked, remembering that I wasn't supposed to know they hunt us. I likely wouldn't have if Wolf hadn't shown me all those skulls they kept hanging up on the walls.

Cooper nodded. "They hunt and kill us—like safari hunters or something."

"We need you to tell us what sort of technology he used. Why he was here, what those things were to him," Rawlins interjected, trying to move the topic back on track.

Instantly, I was on the defensive. I hunched my shoulders and brought my arms into my chest. "I don't know much of anything. It was dark and I didn't see a whole lot." Like I was going to give away my savior's trade secrets.

Even if I wouldn't see him again.

Sighing, Cooper picked out a new pile of pictures and slapped them in front of me. Some spun off to the side, threatening to fall, but I caught them.

"Do not get me wrong, Ms. Shain. We know  _a lot_  about these things. You are not protecting a good alien. We don't know why he helped you, just that it probably wasn't out of the kindness in his heart. Go on, take a look," he demanded, nodding to the pictures.

Scowling, I glanced at the pictures and then averted my gaze almost immediately, eyes wide and pulse skyrocketing.

When I didn't immediately take in the images, he leaned forward and spread them out in front of me. "See this? 1987, South America. A special ops team went into the jungle to rescue our soldiers. One of those  _things_  was hunting them. Skinned them. Hung them up. Stole their  _skulls_."

The photo he showed me had nothing of the sort of it and was merely a picture of the group that went into the forest.

"Only two made it out, and only one of them was military. The other was some local," Rawlins added, handing me another picture. This one was of a man who was nothing more than a walking slab of muscle. "He managed to kill the one that took out his team. It activated some sort of bomb that blew up half the rain forest."

Next, they brought my attention to a photo that was nothing more than a smoking crater gouged out of a lush rainforest. It was an aerial view, but even from the high vantage point, I could tell that it was a huge cut of land.

"These," Cooper continued, flicking aside more papers. "Los Angeles, 1997. Another one hunted down cops, gang members, armed civilians—they've been hunting our kind for trophies for ages."

_1997—that hadn't been so long ago._

They tossed more and more photos at me, making my stomach churn with each one.

A grainy image of a man hanging upside down from the rafters of a building, headless and completely skinned. Another, this one a man with his skull and spinal column ripped straight from his corpse. Blood spread out across the ground of the alley in a wide pool.

_Her blood coated my fingers, leaving them with a sticky residue. It pooled beneath her, bubbled from the wound around the breached chestburster._

I started to tremble and my fingers slipped on the prints when I tried to push them away in disgust, so I pushed away from the table instead and put my hands on my head. My heart was thudding in my chest as I tried to shove those memories and thoughts out of my head—all those trophies Wolf had shown me. . .his own collection. . . .

"But he didn't—didn't kill  _me_ , so—and. . .and I don't know anything—less than nothing!"

He pushed more pictures over to me and I flinched as if he'd hit me. Before I could close my eyes and block out the images, I caught glimpses of beheaded bodies and I whimpered under my breath.

"There's  _nothing_  benevolent about these aliens," Cooper insisted.

"Hey, hey, what exactly are you doing to her? Look at her," Ava said suddenly, leaning over to

pick up one of the pictures when she saw my condition. She paled and then flung the image at Cooper before jumping to her feet and collecting all of them in her hands. "Are you crazy? My client is a  _trauma_  patient! You can't just show her stuff like this haphazardly!"

Cooper flung his hand in my direction. "She needs to cooperate and if this is how we get her to do that, then so be it!"

Face red, the small therapist threw the remaining papers at Cooper. They fluttered all over the place, but at least three or four them wound up slapping him in the face. He looked flabbergasted for a second, and Rawlins leaned away from him.

"You're out of line!" she spat.

The agent stood up and slammed his fists on the table, making me recoil. " _I'm_ out of line?"

Rawlins put a hand on Cooper's shoulder and forced him back into his seat. "She's right, let the girl alone."

For a minute Cooper looked like he was ready to argue, but eventually sat back down. Ava remained standing for another heartbeat, only moving to sit next to me when she was certain Agent Cooper had dropped it.

"Are you alright? We don't have to continue if you don't want to," she assured me, her arm resting on my shoulders.

"Like hell she doesn't."

Everyone shot Cooper a glare and he snorted before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ms. Shain," Rawlins said. They were really pushing the "good cop bad cop" cliché. "Why don't we start with what  _we_  know about them, and you fill in the gaps?"

I shook my head. "None of this is important. What about the things that took us? I didn't get a chance to speak to you at the conference, but there could be more out there in those woods! Your people could be in danger, they could come back. You have to search the whole—"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Cooper said, his hand raised. I glowered at him but clamped my mouth shut with a click of my teeth. "We've already come across them."

Rawlins must have noticed the look of terror on my face because he leaned forward and reached a hand toward me. "Don't worry, we were well prepared this time. We only suffered a few deaths, mostly injuries."

_Only a few!_

If he was trying to make me feel better, it wasn't working. They'd been out there—at any time they could have come into town—they could have killed more people—could have—

"Breathe, Nichole," Ava reminded me, patting my back.

I nodded and took a few deep breaths to bring my hyperventilating back under control.

"So if you please," Rawlins continued, tapping a stack of papers against the tabletop to straighten them out. "We have the alien you were with written down as a species standing approximately eight feet tall, is that accurate?"

At first, I thought he meant the drones but then I realized what he was talking about. "I guess. I didn't exactly have a measuring tape."

He managed a smirk. "Yes, right."

Next to me, Ava sniffed. "Can you hurry it up? I want a chance to speak with my client alone sometime  _today_ , please. We have much to go over and try to address."

Cooper's face reddened and I thought he was going to start blowing steam out of his ears. Rawlins removed one paper from the stack before handing the rest to Cooper, then flipped it over to the blank side and scribbled a few notes. "Just glance over these things I'm writing down and tell me if they're true or not, and enlighten us if they aren't."

He slipped the paper across the table to me and I had to resist the urge to look at the other side. Rawlins had written down a few bullet points about Wolf's species. The more I read, the closer I felt to Wolf. Most of it I wouldn't have ever been able to deduce without spending more time with him.

"They see in infrared?" I asked.

Cooper nodded. "The first man who survived an attack from these things covered himself in mud and it couldn't see him anymore. We don't think that's the only thing they see in, though, as the one in Los Angeles could see our operatives even when they were wearing special suits."

My brow knit together as I thought about that. When he had shown me the alien queen, it had appeared light green. So far as I knew nothing in heat vision appeared green. "The mask," I muttered.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. We figured their mask might double as a heads-up display and a respirator," Cooper agreed with a nod. "We're fairly certain they're unable to breathe our atmosphere for prolonged periods of time."

I bit my lip and tapped my cheek with a finger. "There were parts of the ship that I couldn't breathe in very well, either."

Cooper raised his eyebrows and jotted that down. "Probably their ship's artificial atmosphere."

"I guess."

Both agents glanced at each other and then Rawlins pointed at some of the other bullets. "Okay, good. The other things there?"

 _Focus_ , I reminded myself. I wanted to make sure I watched what I said about Wolf, but I didn't think I knew anything groundbreaking that would give them something to use against him. Nothing that they didn't already know, anyway. It seemed they knew quite a bit.

High tech weapons, hunts for trophies, some version of an honor code, and high-end camouflage.

Nothing new for me, either, except for the infrared tidbit and I could have guessed that.

"Well," I started, handing the paper back, "you guys know everything I know. It's not like I could talk to him, not like he could tell me much about himself."

Rawlins nodded his head toward me. "What's the mark on your chest?"

My hand rose and I brushed my fingers over the spot covered by my shirt. "I'm not really sure."

"When did he give it to you?"

"What makes you think  _he_  gave it to me?" I shot back. "It could have just been a splatter from the acid those things bleed."

"You confirmed yourself when you answered Rawlins' question," Cooper retorted smugly.

Disgruntled, I slumped in my seat and crossed my arms like a petulant child. "I don't know what it means. I don't know which part of 'we had no real way to communicate' you people don't seem capable of understanding."

"Alright, we'll come back to it," Rawlins said. Cooper didn't look like he agreed, but he didn't push the subject either. "What about—"

I shook my head and huffed. "What does it matter? You said it yourself; you're not going to try to stop them. So why bother learning anything at all? Especially when you're afraid of sparking a war you're just going to lose."

Cooper said, "Well, it's been made perfectly clear that if they're killed, nothing happens. It's an occupational hazard for these things. So if one goes missing, say, if we caught one alive or at least before it blows itself up, then there should be no repercussions. They'll just think that they died in the line of duty or whatever."

"How can you be so sure about that?" I asked.

"We're not," Rawlins shrugged, "but that's all beyond what we're going over here. There's no need for you to worry yourself about that. The government knows what it's doing."

That had to be code for "stop asking questions."

"Well, I don't know enough to help you there. Ask about the black things, about their nesting habits, their life cycle. They're  _easy_. Let me tell you about them since they're the things that were killing people this time! You're obviously going to get another shot at whatever these other aliens are if they come back every ten years, so ask me about the ones that killed my friends."

When the agents turned to look at each other I slammed my palms against the table top and clenched my teeth together. "Stop  _doing_  that!"

Ava put a hand on my shoulder and glared over at the other two. "I think this is over, you can continue next time. She needs a break from you two a-holes pestering and picking at her like she's a perpetrator in a crime."

"These are very time-sensitive topics. We need to talk to her while it's all still fresh," Cooper argued, his fingers tapping impatiently.

"Her  _wounds_  are still fresh, too!"

I held my face in my hands and groaned. "Just ask me about the black things! I can talk about the black things!"

Cooper stood with Rawlins, who gathered up their papers. "We don't need you to tell us about them, we're figuring it all out for ourselves."

Rawlins tucked the folder under his arm once everything was straightened up and said, "At first we thought about asking you, but considering your past with these things we decided to spare you from reliving those painful memories."

My therapist-slash-impromptu-guardian also pushed herself to her feet, but I remained, not even making a move for my crutches. "What do you  _mean_  you're 'figuring it out for yourselves'?"

"Well, we have one," Cooper said, smirking.

All the color drained from my face. "One. . .what?"

"Y'know. The aliens. We caught one. Well, three of them," Cooper said, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his cheap suit pants.

If I hadn't been sitting, I would have collapsed. Already my heart was ramming against my chest and I suddenly found it hard to breathe. Everyone watched me with slight concern until, finally, I attempted to scramble upright. Ava hurried to push me back into my seat.

"You—you  _didn't_. You—you have to kill them,  _now_!" My voice was hoarse.

Rawlins extended a hand. "I promise you they're locked up safe. No way to get out. We're going to learn what we can about them, the ones we killed are already being dissected and studied."

_No no no._

I shook my head, eyes never leaving the two agents. "You won't learn anything about them like that! You just have  _drones_. They're like—like ants or bees. They have a queen. Without the queen they'll be—they'll be useless, lost. They won't reproduce, the queen lays eggs!"

Cooper shrugged. "Then there's nothing to worry about if they can't reproduce."

They didn't seem to understand that they had machines incapable of remorse or reasoning. Wolf had an honor code; he only killed the worthy or out of self-defense. These things—without a queen, without a reason to do anything. . .how would they react? Maybe they'd just wither away and die, or maybe they'd become even more murderous.

"But—I don't know how smart they are." I floundered for a moment, then knit my brows at them. "Let me see them."

"That is absolutely out of the question, Ms. Shain," Rawlins said, always so calm.

Ava stepped forward, mouth open, but Cooper cut her off. "They're not even in Colorado anymore. It would be highly inappropriate to fly you to our compound let alone let you see them."

"Now hang on," Ava managed to edge in. "It might be a  _good_  thing for her to see them."

"What?" We all turned to her, varying expressions of surprise on our faces.

She looked between us, then sighed and rolled her eyes. "It could be very cathartic for her. Seeing the things that tormented and tried to kill her locked up. It might accelerate the healing process to know that they can't hurt her anymore."

I  _severely_  doubted that, but whatever it took for me to see these things.

However, Cooper shook his head and rubbed his nose. "No, it's just not possible. She doesn't have the clearance. Besides, what if it makes it worse?"

"It might, or it might make her feel better," Ava sighed, exasperated.

Rawlins put a hand on Cooper's shoulder and took a step forward. "Okay, well, if Nichole wants to see them then we could give it a try."

"I do!"

"What the hell you talking about?" Cooper grunted.

"The best we can do," Rawlins continued, ignoring me and Cooper, "is get some pictures though. There's just no way we could give her clearance to fly out to the facility let alone get  _inside_  the facility."

Cooper glanced at Rawlins. "Even then we can't get pictures of everything, just of their holding cell. And that's a  _maybe_. We don't know if our bosses would allow even  _that_  much," he amended, sounding as frustrated as Ava.

"That's fine," Ava sniffed. "Whatever you can do. I'll sign papers, write a note, whatever. If it'll make Nichole feel better, then they should be willing to at least  _try_."

Their way of talking about me like I wasn't there was starting to grind on my nerves. My face reddened and I crossed my arms over my chest. "I  _want_  to see them. If possible I'd like to see them  _dead_. You don't know what they're capable of!"

"And we won't know unless we have  _live_ specimens," Cooper snapped. Before I could say anything else, he stormed toward the door. "Enjoy the rest of your session, we'll see you next time."

Rawlings followed him but stopped before crossing the threshold. "If we can get some pictures, we'll have them for you by the next time we see you. It might not be this week, but we'll stay in touch." He offered a smile and wave and then started to close the door. However, he opened it back up and added, "Oh, and Nichole?"

"What?" I sighed.

"Are your sister and her friends going to be a problem?" he asked, his tone suddenly dark.

I averted my gaze and hunched over in my seat. "No. No one believes her. I haven't told her anything, either."

He stared at me for a few seconds, then nodded. "Alright. We'll be watching."

And with that, they finally left.

As soon as he was gone, I felt the bite of my nails in my palms. Ava waited for a heartbeat before turning toward me. "Alright, let's move this to my office. We have some time to talk and I'd like to go over how the press conference went."

It took a moment for the words to register, but I grabbed my crutches and heaved myself up before following after Ava down the hallway. If I hadn't needed to pay attention to the turns she took, I would have been lost in my thoughts. A million miles away, in some secret government facility where they were keeping a few of the drones.

The things that haunted my nightmares.

What were they thinking, keeping just  _one_ of them alive, let alone a handful of the things? If they knew, if they had  _been_ there, they would have killed them outright. . . .

Or maybe it was really just me being unreasonable. The beasts had no queen, so they couldn't multiply, and even if they did they wouldn't have any hosts while they were locked up. There was no way of knowing what they'd do without their matriarch—which also meant there was no way of knowing if they were smart enough to escape.

Couldn't they learn enough from the dead ones? From me telling them what I'd learned? Why would they need to study their behavior?

They had to be killed, I knew that much.

_How am I going to convince them?_


	24. Dead and Gone

"When are you going back to school?"

I didn't lift my eyes from my cereal at the sound of my dad's voice. I chewed more deliberately on the bite in my mouth, trying to come up with an answer for him. For the past week, he'd been pestering me about returning to school since it had finally reopened. Dad was trying to whittle me down so I would go back.

Part of me wanted to believe he thought it was good for me, but I knew it was really just that he was worried about my grades. That, maybe, I was milking it so I could avoid going to school and earn more sympathy or something.

_Yeah, I hear the conversations you have with Mom at night! You're getting a special mention in therapy next time._

"Whenever my therapist says I'm ready to go," I said at last, before taking another bite of cereal. More often than not, now, I wanted to just stay up in my room and keep hidden away from the family. It was still hard for me to sleep, though.

My sister's stare burned holes in the back of my head. She, of course, had been going since day one. Probably shouting more nonsense about aliens.

If I could come up with a way to keep her from doing that without confessing, I would.

Alan was already in his room, and I was a little jealous of him. He wasn't part of this stupid conversation—again.

"You have to go back eventually," Dad pointed out. The newspaper in his hand rustled as he changed pages. I was certain he was single-handedly keeping the printed news business afloat. Well, it might have been a combined effort between all dads everywhere.

Mom cleared her throat and shot him a glare, but he ignored her.

It wasn't like he wasn't right, but if I could postpone my reintroduction to school, then I wasn't going to force Ava to clear me. None of it seemed important to me anymore, not when my only friends weren't going to be there anymore.

_All my fault._

"I know," I said with a sigh, dropping my spoon in the almost empty bowl. My appetite had fled me. "The funeral's today and Ava'll want to hear about it. Maybe afterward she'll tell me I can go. She said I needed more time last session."

Dad sighed, but it was Mom who spoke. "I'm sure another few days won't hurt anything." She cleared away her dishes and moved to the sink.

He said, "Well, try not to shoot for next week. The sooner the better."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Mm-hmm."

Kristie followed Mom's lead and cleared her bowl from the table. Without looking at me, she said, " _I'm_  going to school tomorrow."

"Good for you," I muttered under my breath, glaring up at her.

If she heard me, there was no outward sign and she certainly didn't have a comeback. I kept my eyes on her for a moment longer while I finished off my cereal, and then swallowed the last few mouthfuls of the sugary milk.

It was my turn to clean up. I left my crutches behind and hobbled to the sink, trying not to draw attention to myself. However, Dad noticed.

"Nichole, should you be doing that?" he said nonchalantly, looking up at me from over the top of his paper. Mom poked her head in and then gasped, hurrying to bring me my crutches over by the sink for me.

My brows knit together and I pursed my lips. "Nothing says I  _can't_  do it. Besides, my legs haven't hurt much in days."

"That's because you've been resting them," Mom scolded.

Huffing, I put my dishes away in the washer and begrudgingly gathered my crutches. "I'm going to start physical therapy here pretty soon. I gotta get in some practice," I pointed out, heading toward the stairs.

"Don't overdo it," Dad said. His lack of convincing empathy irked me.

"Did you need help up the stairs so you can get ready?" Mom asked, trailing after me.

I dodged her question and instead asked one of my own, trying to stall before the funeral as much as I could. "When are you guys going back to work?"

"Your father is going in today, but I'm going to take another two days off so I can help clean up after the memorial service today, unless you want me to stay home with you until you go back to school, of course."

_That's right, they're not calling it a funeral._

The town had elected to host one massive ceremony for everyone who had died during the incident. Of course, there were no bodies so they had just gathered pictures of all the known victims from the town. The family members of the deceased were going to read short passages during the whole thing. A lot of people had come together to help pull it off, my mom included.

As far as I knew, there was a separate ceremony being held out of state for all the military folks. This was strictly for Estes Park victims.

Having the house alone made me nervous but at the same time, it would be refreshing. I wouldn't have to hide in my room to find the peace and quiet I needed, but I also knew that Dad would probably lecture me about lounging on the couch all day. . .

Oh, wait. There was the whole  _broken legs_  thing. He couldn't really complain about that. Didn't mean he was going to be happy about it, though. Or find a way to bitch anyway.

"No, I'll be fine by myself," I said. "Atlas will be here, right?"

She smiled and stroked my hair. "Yeah, I guess he will be. Well, we're going to head over there in a little bit so you best hurry and get ready."

I nodded and tucked my crutches under my arm. "Yeah, sure. Where is Atlas, anyway?"

Dad came out of the kitchen and motioned toward the back door. "Outside barking at a squirrel or a bird or something."

Sure enough, I could hear the faint sound of our dog howling in the backyard. He stopped and started in fits, and it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to bark at everything he perceived as a threat—usually other people walking by with their dogs.

Every morning he would do the same routine, and it was something we had never really been able to break no matter how much training we did.

We certainly tried to curb it, though.

Kristie walked over to the back door and threw it open. "Get in here!" she shouted. Atlas continued barking for a while, then skittered inside, his claws clicking on the kitchen floor. He greeted everyone in turn and then ran straight back outside through the doggy door to start the same cycle again. Kristie groaned and just stormed up the stairs to prepare.

I watched her with a growing sadness, then started up the stairs, leaning heavily on the rail as I tried to juggle my crutches all the while. "He'll bark himself tired, I'm sure. It won't take me long to get ready, so holler when it's time to go.

"Do you need any help?" my mom offered.

Shaking my head, I finally made it to the landing and went to my room. "Nope, I'm good."

Once I was closed up in solitude, I sat down on my bed. Letting out a slow breath, I tilted my head back and shut my eyes. I had been avoiding seeing anyone but my family, Dr. Kendrick, Ava, and the agents for as long as I could, but now. . .now I was going to have to face everyone all at once. All I could do was hope that they didn't force me to make a stupid speech or something.

*:･ﾟ✧

It seemed like the whole town had arrived to pay their respects; there were even more present than there had been at the press conference. It was a sea of bodies out in the cold, all clad in varying shades of black with a speck of color here or there. Snow covered everything and the gray clouds above swathed the sky in dim lighting, making it seem like the color had been drained from the entire world.

All that was missing was some god damn rain.

The funeral home hadn't been anywhere near big enough for the entire city, so some people had made last-minute calls to the Stanley Hotel, and the staff there were more than happy to oblige. Their various venues were more than large enough to accommodate the sheer number of people who showed up.

It wasn't rare for parties or weddings to be held at the hotel. It was a pretty popular spot and was usually expensive, but management had cut the price due to the circumstances—not that it would have mattered: everyone was more than willing to chip in to pay for it.

Everyone was still piling into the iconic hotel well after the event was supposed to begin. Finally, though visitors were still trickling in, the memorial service began and everyone took their seats in the large MacGregor Ballroom. Against the back wall, a slideshow was playing. I didn't know who had set it up, but it was full of various pictures of the victims.

My family had seats reserved in the front row, but I wished I could stay in the back where I wouldn't have giant versions of my friends' faces staring at me.

I should have wanted to see them, though. Maybe looking at them smiling and having fun would bleach their fear-contorted faces from my mind. Maybe seeing them happy would help me forget their pain, right before they were gunned down in a mercy killing.

But no, I had to sit right up front and try to avoid looking directly at the slideshow while each speaker came up, in turn, to make a short speech before a priest from one of the local churches could do his thing. The constantly sniffling and muffled sobbing coming from the crowd drowned out the soft, somber music playing through a sound system.

The speaking came to a close and people were allowed to mill around and socialize, maybe eat some finger foods.

Up until the speeches had been concluded, I had managed to keep my emotions in check. I couldn't quite keep tears from falling, but I wasn't a mess like some of the others. I had kept up a stony expression and focused on anything I could to keep from losing my composure.

With the reception in full swing and people coming together to chat, I knew it was only a matter of time before my poise crumbled.

"Nichole?"

I'd been too busy trying not to stare at the slideshow to notice someone had approached me. I managed not to have a complete fit of surprise and only twitched a little before turning to see who was talking to me: someone I barely recognized.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," the man said. A woman I assumed was his wife stood at his heels, her hands on his shoulder. Both of them had red, puffy eyes as if they were both close to breaking down. I felt like I'd seen them somewhere, but they weren't the parents of any of my close friends that I could tell.

"It's okay," I said, pursing my lips. "Did you lose someone?"

He nodded his head and said, "Ah, yes. Our. . .our son, Michael. We just wanted to know, if, um, was. . . Did he suffer at all?"

"Was he tortured?" the woman blurted out, only bringing herself closer to a meltdown.

Though I wasn't sure who their son was, I could imagine what might have happened to him— _plastered to the wall, surrounded by darkness and other victims. Awake and confused, chest pains—_ I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I figured it didn't matter who their son was, his fate was probably the same as everyone else's who was in that hive.

Fighting against the wave of memories and images— _eggs lined up on the ground, facehuggers leaping at the people pinned—_ I remembered what these people wanted to hear.

They wanted some good news. I could do that.

"Um, no," I managed to say. I couldn't even begin to conceive what all the victims went through before they died, but I was there to bring comfort, not make things worse.

"No one was really. . . tortured," I continued, unable to meet their eyes. I wished I could force a smile, but I couldn't even do that much. I wasn't sure if a smile would be appreciated, either. "Yeah, they didn't torture anyone, just, it was like. . ."

When I found I couldn't come up with anything, I just shook my head. "I don't. . .I don't know what they did with the victims. They took them away and. . .I don't really want to talk about it.

Michael's dad reached forward and put a hand on my shoulder. "You've already said enough."

His wife lifted a crumpled tissue to her eyes and forced a smile. I found it easier to do the same when I had an example in front of me. She said, "Thank you."

As they left, I realized there was a whole group of people standing around, waiting for their chance to talk to me but hadn't wanted to be the first. After the first set left, they all came in pairs or small groups. I was grateful they didn't swarm me, but they all asked the same questions—what were her final moments like? Was he brave? Did he try to stand up for himself? Very few asked about my particular situation, so it was easy to tell them what they wanted to hear to make them leave.

Eventually, the people I didn't want to see finally made an appearance. My heart dropped and I already felt a swell of emotion in my chest. Jess' and Michelle's parents both came to me at the same time—well, their mothers. I didn't know where their dads were. Had I not been practicing the art of not crying for the past two weeks, I would have burst into tears at the very sight of them.

I had never been particularly close to Michelle's family, and though Francine wasn't quite like my second mom like Jess' mom was, I still considered her comparable to extended family. As the two approached, I briefly considered running away but knew that would just delay the inevitable.

"Nichole, sweetie," Francine cooed, reaching out to me. I found myself reaching back not out of the need for her comfort, but because I knew she  _needed_  to comfort  _me_.

Though I had to lift myself a little out of my seat to properly hug Sarah, Jess' mom, I didn't mind too much. I held the embrace until she let go and then settled back down. I couldn't meet her eyes no matter how hard I tried.

Sarah's hand brushed my face, but I spoke first. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry we ever went out there. Jess didn't want to go, but Michelle and I wanted to find what crashed in the woods, so I convinced her to come with us. I should have just—it's all my fault. I'm sorry—I'm sorry I couldn't bring them back with me." The words tumbled from my mouth unfiltered, and it was by some miracle I managed not to give out any specific details.

"No, no," Francine sighed, her voice heavy with tears. She held me again while I tried to stop the sobs and regain control of myself again. "No one's blaming you, least of all me."

Francine let me go and I brushed tears from my face. I forced the tide of emotions down and convinced myself that I was only crying because everyone else was. Sarah stepped up next to Francine and put her hand on my shoulder. Though I tried to look up at her, I was unable: her expression was stony and contrasted with what she said. "She's right. No one blames you for this directly."

 _Directly_. The word hit me like a brick.

Before either of the two could say anything more, I was swarmed by a crowd of familiar faces and a flurry of well-wishes. Sarah and Francine were pushed away and quietly melted into the rest of the crow, leaving me alone with all of my soccer teammates.

"How are you feeling?"

"Will you be able to play again?"

"When you missed practice I had no idea that—"

I lifted my hands and closed my eyes. They flung questions and comforting words at me all at the same time and I could only process some of them. "I'm doing alright, no I won't be able to play anymore, even when I'm healed."

A collective groan of pity rippled through the small gaggle of girls and I found it rather tedious.

"What are you going to do then?" the varsity striker, Caitlyn, asked.

Shrugging, I flippantly said, "Learn how to play chess, I guess."

A few chuckled, but most were too choked up on funeral sadness to find it even kind of funny. To be fair, I wasn't laughing either.

We spoke for a little while and I was glad for their company, if only because they barred anyone else from approaching. They did most of the talking while I sat and nodded when I was supposed to, feigned interest when it was appropriate, and went "aw" when necessary. For the most part, I just wished the whole thing was over.

I had only been to one funeral before when my great-grandma on my mom's side had died. We'd driven all the way to Nebraska for it, and it had been a quarter of the size of this one. Maybe even an eighth. The service had been in a church, and then we'd driven out to the cemetery for the lowering of the casket. The original plan for this service had been something similar, but there weren't any caskets to speak of. Without that, I wasn't really sure what the plan was anymore.

At my great-grandma's funeral, we had small sandwiches, cookies, punch, and other little confectionaries after the service and before the burial. It was much the same here, but there lacked the kind of levity that had been present at my great-grandma's: it had been a funeral for a woman who had lived a full and relatively happy life.

That wasn't even close to the case this time.

These were lives cut down before their prime, snuffed out with so much potential. There was no celebrating of a complete life. Some people weren't eating, and those that were partaking in refreshments were sitting sullenly by themselves or with their families. Any occasional outburst of laughter or mirth caught attention and was quieted.

Soon, people started to file out of the Stanley and head to their cars. I liked to imagine I knew where they were going, but no one told me anything around there.

They were probably too afraid of setting me off or something.

Whatever.

Sighing, I stood up from my seat and started to hobble around to try and find my family, but my mother beat me to it. Even though she startled me when she put her hand on my shoulder, I managed not to try and backhand her. Some of these sessions with Ava were doing me some good.

I still jumped out of my skin, though.

"Oh I'm sorry honey, I didn't mean to scare you," Mom said.

My cheeks burned and I let my breath out in a gust. I shook my head and readjusted my grip on the crutches. I said, "It's fine."

"Did you get something to eat?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"Well, let's go grab you something and then we can head out towards the memorial."

"Where's that?" I asked, following Mom over to the table of snacks.

She shrugged and picked up a paper plate to start piling food on it for me. "I'm not sure. We're going to follow everyone else. I'm sure someone who knows is going to lead us all there. Mustard on your sandwich?"

"Yes, please."

Mom made up my sandwich using the dishes of condiments, set a handful of Doritos on the plate next to it, picked out a sugar cookie for dessert, then lead me toward the car, offering to feed me. I shook my head and picked up a cup of lemonade. It was about all I could carry while trying to walk with crutches at the same time.

I asked, "Where's everyone else? Dad, Kristie, Allen?"

"I told them to get the car warmed up while I grabbed you. Did you talk to a lot of people?"

"I guess so, kinda."

Conversation dwindled when we reached the door and we had to maneuver through the wave of people without dropping any food. The cold air blasted me in the face and I shivered in my coat, wishing I hadn't unzipped it earlier. It had been a little toasty in the MacGregor Ballroom, but at least I hadn't removed my jacket completely.

It had snowed again several times over the week, but it had always warmed up enough during the afternoons that most of it melted away. There was still a few inches, but at least the city didn't have to be closed off like it did some winters.

*:･ﾟ✧

A police escort trailed us toward the sight of the memorial. Police on motorcycles were zipping ahead to block off intersections and keep traffic at bay, but there wasn't any traffic to speak of.

Not when 80% of Estes Park was coming to the memorial.

There had to be more than a dozen cars ahead of us, and even more following from behind. Shortly after we started driving, I had finished all of my food and stowed the empty cup and plate underneath my seat for later. However, the trash was probably going to stay there for a week before it was discovered and disposed of.

We passed building after building and it wasn't long before I noticed what direction we were going. That the buildings were giving way to trees and we were winding our way upward. My blood pressure spiked and I turned around in my seat to see the town fading behind us.

"Why are we going this way?" I demanded in a meek voice.

Dad glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I was sitting closest to the right door with Allen between me and Kristie. "They set up a memorial in the picnic area of the park," he said.

"What?" Blood turning to ice in my veins, I sank further in my seat, trying not to look out the window into the woods on either side of us. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing so I could keep the coming panic attack at bay.

"Yeah, this'll be the first time they let anyone near the park since you were found," Mom added.

 _And for good reason!_ I couldn't help but think. Rawlins and Cooper had said they found a few drones in the forest, but how could they be sure that there weren't more out there?

"We shouldn't go in there," I whimpered aloud, squirming in my seat.

"Don't be such a baby," Kristie muttered. If she had been trying to say it quietly, she didn't do a very good job of it.

"Kristie!" my mom admonished, turning sharply in her seat.

Though I wasn't looking at her, I could hear her roll her eyes. "Sorry, god."

Mom glared at her a moment longer before turning to look at me. "It'll be okay, sweetie. They wouldn't have opened the park if they didn't think it was safe."

When I opened my mouth to say something, I realized I had nothing rational or intelligent to say and shut it instead. It wasn't like I could tell them "there could be giant alien monsters in there that want to eat us."

Of course, the option was there to explain that "there could be terrorists still in there" but that would be dismissed.

Despite the feeling of dread, I forced myself to sit still in my seat and use the breathing exercises Ava taught me to keep my emotions under control. There wasn't much I could do about my heart or the sweaty palms, but at least I was somewhat under control.

Well, in a way that anyone looking at me would think I was under control.

We patrolled past the admission booths without picking up parking permits and I every muscle in my body tensed until it hurt. I stayed that way the entire drive into the main picnic area where we parked. Up ahead, the information booth sat in front of the tables lined up, surrounded by trees.

Dad helped me out of the car and I settled onto my crutches. However, my legs refused to move me forward until my mother started to steer me onward. We melted into the rest of the crowd, but they still parted when I came up to give me enough room. I found a strange sense of comfort in the sea of bodies—safety in numbers, I supposed.

Even then, the slightest rustle of leaves, a shadow cast by a shift in the trees, someone coughing abruptly—it was all enough to send me into a fit. My breathing exercises started to fail and I tried finding my dumb-ass "happy place" but that didn't work.

I told myself that it wasn't going to be much longer. Only enough time to see the memorial and then that'd be it. I'd make my parents take me home and the whole thing would be over.

And I'd never have to come to this park ever again.

Or any forest.

Hiking and camping were things of the past for me. I didn't want to spend any more time in anything remotely close to a wooded area.

Further into the picnic area, I finally caught sight of the large gold plaque posted on a thick tree. I thought maybe it was an oak, but I had no idea. I wasn't a tree-ologist. Everyone was crowded around it and I dug my heels in, refusing to go any closer and forcing Mom to move around me.

"Okaywesawitcanwegonow?"

"What?" Dad asked, pausing to look at me.

"I want to go, we saw it, so can we go?" I asked, remembering to enunciate.

Mom brushed passed us and glanced at me. "I want to go read it real quick. I'll only be a few minutes, then we can go."

Despite the urge to throw a grade-A tantrum, I clamped shut. In lieu of making a horrendous scene, I clenched my fists so tight my nails bit into my palms. My sister meandered after my mom but my brother looked about as interested in going to look at the plate as he was doing his homework.

"We'll be done soon," Dad said as he followed the rest of the family.

Resigned, I sat down at the nearest bench and squeezed my hands together, trying to keep my eyes on my lap. People continued to pass me by while I attempted to manage the mini heart attack creeping up on me.

The trees loomed above me, leaning in and surrounding all sides—closing in around me.

_Every shadow—every sound—hidden aliens lurked and waited for an opportunity—_

A branch out in front of me dipped and creaked. I threw my hands up and tangled my fingers in my hair, tugging. Eyes closed, I hummed quietly to myself in order to drown out the anxiety and thoughts plaguing my mind.

It seemed like an eternity but eventually, someone stood in front of me. I heard their shoes crunch on the snow and I looked up, fingers curled and ready to scratch some eyes out.

"Baby?"

_Oh. Just Mom._

I lowered my hands and stared up at her helplessly. She crouched in front of me and took her my hands in hers. "Honey, you're shaking, are you okay?"

When I shook my head, it was a jerky motion. "I want to go home."

She nodded and stood up straight. "Alright, let me go find your father and I'll be right back. Alan? Alan stay with your sister."

Though he visibly sighed, my brother still came to my side and stood there, shoulders hunched against the cold. He had been talking to one of his friends from school, but they were ushered away when Alan left them. I glanced at him and stared at my lap. "Sorry."

He looked at me and blinked. "For what?"

"Nothing," I murmured, huddling closer to myself.

Silence—save for the buzz coming from the group by the tree—descended around me and my nervousness increased. Eventually, even the sound of their mingled voices faded into nothing and I found it hard to focus on any one thing for longer than a second before my attention was directed elsewhere.

I was certain that the shadows were alive and scheming against me. I felt the eyes of something sinister watching me from the canopy, making my heartbeat thunder in my ears.

"Are you scared?" Alan asked me, interrupting the panic attack.

It must have been my breathing that caught his attention: I hadn't realized how audible it had become. I swallowed the bile in my throat and looked down in shame. "Kind of."

Without looking at me, he held his hand where I could see it. Confused, I turned my head toward him and cocked it to the side. He still didn't look at me even as he said, "You can hold my hand if you want to."

To my credit, I didn't tear up. I smiled and took his hand in mine, then waited for our parents to return. We didn't say much, but there wasn't really a need to. The warmth of his hand was enough to keep me calm while my parents wrangled each other up and found my sister. It didn't completely chase away the feeling that I was being watched or that the shadows harbored monsters, but it was a start.


	25. Watching

Thankfully, the memorial service was all that had been planned for the day, and I was even blessed some reprieve from Dad: he went off to work right after the service. Even Kristie was leaving—she stayed home long enough to pack an overnight bag and then left when her friend picked her up.

As she was leaving, Mom turned to me and said, "Nichole, why don't you call some friends and have them. . .come. . .over. . . ."

The deadpan stare I gave her made her trail off and she grimaced.

"Nichole, I'm. . .I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

Shrugging, I grabbed the remote off the coffee table and started flicking through the channels until I found some kind of action movie to watch on FX. To her, I said, "It's fine. I know what you mean. I'm fine here."  _Without any friends._

Even after finding something to watch, I made my way toward the stairs.

"You. . .heading up to your room?" my mom asked just as I was about to take the first step.

I paused and read the tone of her voice; hopeful but apprehensive.

Though I would have liked to stay hidden away in my room, I was going to have to try to socialize with the family eventually. Ava had recommended it a couple times—isolating myself was only going to make things worse.

If I wanted to feel normal, if I wanted to have an easier time coping with my PTSD and not turning into some sort of social reject (my words, not hers) I had to make an effort.

This would be the first step.

"No. I'm just going to check my scar and change into my pajamas then I'll be down," I said, trying to sound somewhat genuine.

Mom smiled and nodded, then took her seat on the couch.

At the very least, Dad wasn't going to be home for quite a while so I wasn't going to have to put up with any of his jabs and lectures. Not this time, anyway, but probably next time. That was something I was going to have to deal with. For the time being, I was stuck in the house until I was more mobile, so I couldn't alienate myself from my family. As much as I wanted to lock myself in my room forever, I didn't want to disappoint my mom.

So, I did as I said I was going to and changed into some comfy pajamas before going back downstairs. I did take a moment to check the incision sites, but the sutures look clean to me and I didn't notice any signs of infection.

At least, I thought so. They were going to be removed in a couple days, so I'd know for sure when we went to the doctors.

"I'm going to play games in my room, okay Mom?" Alan asked as I headed back down to the living room. I didn't hear what my mom's reply was, though, but I ended up having to flatten myself against the wall as my brother headed up. He was already on the stairs when I'd started.

"Sorry," he muttered as he went.

I smiled and tousled his hair. "No problem, bud."

He grumbled and fixed his part before disappearing into his room and I rejoined my mom, who was still watching the same movie I'd left it on.

"Everything look good?" she asked.

"Yup," I grunted as I lowered myself onto the cushions. "You remember what time my appointment is?"

She nodded. "Of course. Have it written down. I'll take you."

"Thanks."

After that movie ended, though, we weren't able to watch a whole lot of television: as night fell, Atlas became increasingly agitated. He paced the rooms, whining and growling as he did and he refused to settle no matter what we did. Fed him, put him in his kennel, gave him treats, offered to play ball. . . . Letting him outside didn't fix his malfunction, either. In fact, it only made him worse.

"What has gotten into that dog?" Mom groaned, turning up the television yet again. It didn't drown out Atlas' barking, but it allowed us to hear what was happening in the show.

In fact, I was certain the  _neighbors_  could hear what we were trying to watch now.

When it became too much to bear, Mom sighed and walked toward the back door. "What do you think, sweetie? Maybe there are some elk out there wandering around."

"Dunno," I muttered, rubbing my temples. All the barking and the loud noises were giving me a headache. I'd considered several times just going up to my room and shoving my head under a pillow, but Mom had seemed to be enjoying my company.

When she pounded against the window overlooking the backyard, I jumped and searched for a would-be attacker. When I couldn't find one and remembered where I was, I settled back into the couch and tried to hide the blush creeping up my neck. I had made it easier to sleep by telling myself that Atlas would alert us if something was going on, and now he wouldn't stop the noises. The familiar sensation of anxiety lodged itself in my gut.

_It's so dark outside. . .we'd never know if a drone was out there. . . ._

"Atlas! Shut up!" Mom called after throwing open the glass pane.

"We'll just have to put him back in his kennel and hope," I suggested, leaning over the couch's armrest to peer around the wall separating the kitchen and living room.

"I guess." Mom unlocked the deadbolt, pulled open the wooden entry, then pushed open the screen door. It creaked loudly and she stepped outside to shout at Atlas. "Come on boy! Get inside!" she demanded. Heat from the kitchen leaked outside in wisps of wavy air and mom's breath was visible.

"Atlas what are you doing? It's too cold for you to stay outside!" she called again when he didn't come after the first time.

His barking remained at the far side of the yard, but with a little more shouting and coaxing from my mother, he came bolting inside like his ass was on fire. Mom locked up, then followed him into the main part of the house. "Come on, get in your kennel. Kennel up."

Despite the command, Atlas made a show of pacing between the kitchen and the couch. Even when the elk did come down the mountain, he was never this crazy about it. As I watched him pace, my chest tightened with each whine and whimper. My fingers clenched and unclenched while mom chased him around before finally dragging him into his kennel.

"Now calm down," she demanded. She was slightly out of breath from the race.

"Was there something out there?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

Mom shook her head and slumped onto the couch with a heavy exhale. "Not a thing that I could see. I don't know what his problem is but he needs to chill out." She turned the TV down to a more manageable volume. It would still be a while before my headache went away.

"Probably just some wild animal," she said after another moment's thought.

"Yeah, maybe." Though, I wasn't convinced.

In his kennel, Atlas seemed a bit calmer. Every now and again he would make little whimpering noises, but it wasn't as bad as it had been before. Atlas rested his head on his paws and heaved a sigh as he started to realize he was stuck.

"Can he still sleep in my room tonight?" I asked, my eyes not leaving him.

Mom looked at him as well and shook her head. "No probably not, I don't want him making it harder for you to sleep if he's going to keep barking. If he's a good boy, I'll let him out, but if he keeps it up then he's staying in the kennel."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry sweetie. Can you sleep without him for one night?" she asked, stroking my head.

I leaned away from her and elicited a disgruntled noise before she let her hand drop. Sighing, I stared over at Atlas' kennel and fidgeted with my hands. "Um, I guess so. If he gets better he can come into my room, though, right?"

Smiling, she nodded. "Of course."

It was going to have to do, but at the rate he was going, Atlas probably wasn't going to calm down at all. He tossed and turned in his kennel, sighing and huffing and straight up barking sometimes. I took my crutches and wandered into the kitchen to look out into the backyard.

Approaching the window was difficult, but I eventually forced myself to part the blinds mom had drawn and peered outside.

Nothing but blackness.

Taking a breath, I turned on the back porch light and looked again. Still nothing. Sighing, I turned off the lights and grabbed a snack before returning to the living room.

No matter what, though, I couldn't convince myself that everything was okay.

*:･ﾟ✧

When the time had come for me to retire to my room, Atlas still hadn't calmed down. I was almost beside myself, glancing at the windows and doors every now and again, half-expecting a drone to burst through the window and try to finish what it started back at the ship.

I kept playing scenarios in my head: where Dad kept his baseball bat and how long it would take me to grab it; what sort of knives we had in the kitchen, and if I could kill a full-grown drone with one before it melted; any hiding places we could pile into; whether or not I'd be able to hold my own with my legs in the condition they were.

It went on and on until Mom declared it was time for bed. I was almost too terrified to go by myself, but I bit my tongue and went anyway.

Like the big girl I was.

After wishing Atlas and my mom a good night, I turned in. Since I didn't have my comfort dog with me, I resorted to turning on the television so I didn't feel so alone in my room. I had it turned down so I could hear it, but it wouldn't distract me while I tried to fall asleep.

Emphasis on "try".

Falling asleep proved difficult with Atlas' fuzzy lard-ass next to me. I tossed and turned, the occasional whimpering coming from downstairs not helping at all: I couldn't shake the niggling feeling that there was something hanging around that was upsetting him.

When I wracked my brain, I couldn't come up with anything. There were no more drones—at least, not as far as the government was concerned—so maybe it really was only a passing herd of elk. That certainly wasn't unheard of, though it was a bit late in the season. There still could be some herds out there lagging a little bit behind or driven into town because of all the commotion in the woods.

Bears, mountain lions. . . there was any number of things it could be.

Surely the last thing I had to worry about was more aliens?

In the end, despite trying not to be dependent, I took my prescribed sleeping pills and let them lead me the rest of the way to sleep land. It wasn't where I particularly wanted to be, but I also didn't care for the side effects of not sleeping—I didn't need any more hallucinations, I didn't need to be any more irritable than I already was, and the definite  _last_  thing I needed was  _death_.

So, sleep it was. Nightmares it was.

Even after taking the pills, it still took me a full hour to finally relax enough to fall asleep. The last thing I was aware of was the hum of the garage door opening and closing when Dad came home from his unusually late shift at work, then I was cast into a sleep full of shadows and elk with sharp teeth and beady black eyes.

_Long, spindly hands groped at me in the darkness. I couldn't scream, couldn't run, couldn't move—still, those hands clutched and held me down. In the distance was a sharp sound, one that I was unable to immediately place. . ._

Atlas.

It was enough to draw me out of slumber, but I was unable to shake the lingering feeling of something holding me down. I struggled to roll over and opened my eyes. By now I was used to seeing silhouettes in my room—manifestations of my nightmares. It took a few seconds for them to fade, but I could blink them away if I focused. That still never stopped them from startling me and sending my heart into space.

This one, however, didn't go away.

This one was bigger and closer to me than the rest.

This one wasn't the shape I was used to.

A scream rose in my throat but the pressure on my chest—which I normally associated with my sleep paralysis—moved with the shadow and a rough hand covered my mouth, effectively silencing me. It took another hand to restrain me as I thrashed about, and downstairs Atlas snarled and howled.

"SHUT UP!" came the booming voice of my father. Not only did the dog fall silent, but even I ceased my flailing for a brief moment before starting up again.

Familiarity was chasing away the fear. The texture of the hands on me, the shape of the body looming from above. Now that Atlas was silent—or had at least quieted to whimpers again—I could hear the clicking and chittering that I had become accustomed to. My heart rate started to normalize, but I was having a hard time coming to terms with what was in front of me.

_Wolf?_

When I, at last, ceased my struggles, he let go of my face and removed his other hand from my chest, letting me sit up. I stared at him for what seemed like forever, and then a flame ignited in my stomach, radiating all the way up to my skull.

"What are you  _doing here_?" I hissed through clenched teeth, lashing out at him.

The big muscle head leaned back and lifted an arm to ward off my thrashing hands. All I managed to do was hurt my fingers and twinge my wrist as I slapped at his arm gauntlet, but I couldn't stop. When he stepped out of my reach, I threw one of my pillows at him and he growled.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded again. "How did you even  _find_ me?"

He unstuck the pillow from a sharp edge of his armor and it flopped dully to the ground. The metal jewelry adorning his tresses clinked together when he turned his head to look around the room. I watched him, chest heaving due to my tantrum, and he lifted his arm to slide a finger down the side of his wrist computer. A hologram projected above it, showing a mass of bright red blotches surrounding something dark blue.

I squinted and leaned forward to see it better, and realized that the red splotches were bodies and they were surrounding a tree.

 _Right. Infrared vision_.

The hologram shifted, zoomed in, and focused on one bright red light sitting down next to a smaller one. It took a moment, but I realized—it was my brother and me.

"You were there?" It came out a whisper. It was a rhetorical question, the answer laid out on a silver platter. He'd been watching that entire time, lurking out of sight with all those people. He'd seen my panic, he'd seen my baby brother comfort me, and he'd followed us home.

That shouldn't have come to a surprise. He was a hunter. It was what he did.

Wolf turned away and walked the length of my room in a couple paces. He stopped at my crutches and placed his hand on one of the supports and wiggled it back and forth. I grimaced and explained, "They're helping me walk until my legs heal and strengthen."

Another glance in my direction, then he yanked the comforter off my lap. I gasped, pulled another pillow out from behind me, and hit him with it. He snarled in surprise and reared back, shoulders squared and chest puffed out. I ignored his display and covered my lap with the thinner sheets, cheeks burning: I didn't like sleeping with pants on. Too hot.

He rumbled deep in his chest as he watched me for any more signs of aggression. When I showed none, he reached for the sheets again. I almost hit him with the pillow one more time to ward him off, but he snapped his gaze toward me and I froze. Though I didn't think he would hurt me, I wasn't about to test his patience, either. Disgruntled but obedient, I lowered my "weapon" and huffed. Though I swallowed my modesty, I couldn't help but think of what Ava had told me about the last kind of alien encounter.

But, I also knew I was being stupid. I was just a big mass of heat in his eyes. It wasn't like my lack of clothing  _meant_  anything to him. I was wearing panties anyway, so I wasn't really  _naked._

The guy was practically naked himself, wearing minimal armor to protect himself.

When I made no further attempts to accost him, he pulled aside the sheets enough so he could examine my legs better. I still felt the burn in my cheeks, but tried to ignore it as I said, "I can mostly walk on my own, but it's the doctor's orders."

Couldn't let him think I was a total gimp.

Wolf ran his fingers over my knee and shin, making me shiver at the light touch. The whole situation was uncomfortable: no one touched me like this.

Then, suddenly, he took both hands and torqued my leg in a bad direction.

Pain shot up my leg and spine, making me arch my back. My sharp cry cut through the relative silence of the house. Out of instinct, I beat Wolf with the pillow even though he had already snatched his hand back out of surprise—and concern, I hoped.

"Don't  _do_ that!" I said, teeth grinding as I fought the waves of throbbing. "It's not totally healed yet! God dammit you're like a child."

He reprimanded me with a sharp cuff to the ear. I glowered at the wall and let him lecture me in his strange language for a few seconds before rolling my eyes and cutting him off. "I'm not apologizing. Jesus, you—that fucking hurt, holy shit. How did you get in here, anyway?"

Before he could answer, a door opened and closed down the hall. My door was open—Wolf hadn't closed it behind him when he'd come inside. Fear bloomed in the back of my head and I turned to Wolf and looked around, reminded of something. Reminded that when I'd last left Wolf, he hadn't been alone.

There was  _another_  alien.

"Oh my god—where's Brutus? You. . .I hope you're keeping that asshole away from my family!" I hissed, half picking myself up from the bed.

A shadow paced closer to my room, leaving little time to discuss it. Deciding to trust that Wolf wouldn't let Brutus come, I turned back around and waved my hands in front of him. I wasn't afraid  _of_  the person who might be coming toward my room, I was afraid  _for_  them. Afraid they might see Wolf, freak out, and make him hurt them.

Frantic, I fought to keep my voice down. "Go invisible! Someone's coming."

I wasn't even finished talking before he melted into obscurity with an electric sizzle.

A faint knock reached my ears, but the person on the other side of the door didn't wait for an answer before pushing it open more and peering inside. I barely had enough time to pull my blankets back over my body and try to look like I had been sleeping.

"You okay in here, sweetie?" Mom whispered. "I thought I heard you shout."

Fake squinting against the dim light from the hallway, I said, "I'm fine, Mom. I had a bad dream, that's it." I was trying to sound groggy.

She leaned against the door frame and looked at me through half-closed eyes. I could tell by the angle of her hair that she had been deep in dreamland when my outburst had woken her. "Do you want me to let Atlas in? He might be quieter in your room."

Atlas was still whining downstairs, making those half-bark sounds he made when he knew he was going to be in trouble if he did the real thing.

He most certainly would  _not_  be quieter in my room, though.

"No." Every muscle in my face felt tight as I fought the urge to look at the spot where Wolf had disappeared. Being nonchalant with my erratic pulse was also no easy task. "I'll be okay. I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"You sure you're okay? Do you need a glass of water or anything?"

"No," I insisted. "Close my door, please? I accidentally left it open."

Mom seemed to have no intention of leaving, but finally, she said, "Alright sweetie. Sweet dreams. I love you."

"Love you too," I murmured, kind of embarrassed saying it with Wolf in the room.

I waited what seemed like forever for her to walk back to her room after she closed up. Even after she closed her bedroom door, I counted to five, and then released the breath I had been holding. No more outbursts. I had to be quiet from here on out.

 _Just too bad Wolf's_ really _good at pissing me off._

Wolf had already dropped his cloak when I returned my attention to him. "How did you get in here?" I made a point to keep my voice down.

While he fidgeted with his computer, I turned on my television—I usually set a timer so it wasn't on all night—and pumped up the volume. That way, if Mom or Dad woke up again, they would assume it was because of the show playing.

He showed me another hologram, and it took me a few seconds to realize that I was watching him sneak into the garage when Dad had returned home. Wolf forwarded the recording through a short time lapse while he monitored my family's vital signs from inside the garage, then just walked inside like he owned the place.

Even though I knew he had been invisible to the naked eye, it still made me nervous to know how easy it might be for someone to sneak into the house.

How close he'd been without anyone realizing.

"So where's Brutus?" I asked.

Wolf answered with an indication toward the backyard, but I didn't know if he meant Brutus was  _in_ the yard or somewhere off in that general direction. Whatever it was, at least he wasn't in the house.

I barely trusted Wolf with my family, let alone that asshole.

It was his turn to ask a question. He reached forward and indicated toward the center of my chest, his head inclined ever so slightly. I shook my head and lifted my hand to rub my sternum. "I don't understand."

Again, he indicated toward my chest. When I still didn't catch his drift, he turned to showcase one of the decorative skulls adorning his armor.

I made an O shape with my mouth. "Right, the thing you made." I grimaced and rubbed my face. "The government took it away when they found me. I don't think they're going to give it back. I'm sorry, there wasn't anything I could do."

Honestly, the thing was a bleak reminder of Jess' death, anyway. I probably wouldn't miss it.

For a moment I thought he would be angry with me, as he just stood stalk still for an uncomfortable amount of time. I started to fidget, but he finally looked away.

"I'm sorry," I said again, a little more desperately than I'd meant.

He turned a few inches and set his heavy hand on my head before walking around the room and looking at my things. Patronizing as always. I watched him, brow furrowed, as he approached my pile of stuffed animals. The one he picked out was an eighteen-inch lion I'd long forgotten the origin of.

"What?" I asked.

Without looking at me, he turned the well-loved toy over in his hands, squeezed it, ruffled the faux-fur mane, then turned toward me, raising it up. He growled an inquiry and tilted his head.

"It's a toy. It's not real."

His snort was one of disgust and he dropped it back into the pile before returning to my bedside. "What are you doing here?" I asked, a little insulted that he didn't approve of my stuffed animals. What did it matter to him?

The alien lifted a hand, palm facing up, and motioned with his fingers for me to stand.

I shook my head in refusal, but not because I was being disobedient. I had a bone to pick.

"I'm not supposed to go walking around that much. Remember that whole, you made me jump out of ship falling down a hill? Then I broke my legs? This—" I made a sweeping gesture over my legs, "—is all your fault, you know."

He shook himself, his dreads swinging with the motion, and he dropped his hand. With the mask on, it was hard for me to pick out the nuances of his speech, but I could at least figure he was saying some sort of admission of guilt, or maybe he was trying to tell me it  _wasn't_  his fault. There was really no way for me to know. However, I chose to believe he was apologizing. Made me feel better, at least.

Once more, he indicated for me to stand. "Why?" I asked suspiciously.

Part of me thought it knew the answer. I was hoping it was wrong.

Wolf made an exasperated sound and my voice played back through his mask. It sounded as if he had recorded it from far away and it was warped, but I still recognized my own voice. It had been from when we'd visited the memorial in the national park. Though it wasn't too loud, it still made me look toward Mom and Dad's room. No sounds came from that direction.

 _"_ _Can we go?"_ the recording played.

A lump formed in my throat and I forced it down, where it fell to the bottom of my stomach and settled like a rock.

_"_ _Go"._

_He's here to take me._


	26. Calculate

"You're here to abduct me?" It was a weak attempt at a joke.

He wasn't amused. I wasn't, either, and it was  _my_  stupid joke.

As if sensing my unease, he turned his body toward me and waited. Did he really expect an answer right that second? How easy did he think it would be for me to just up and leave my home? I couldn't believe he honestly thought I'd just disappear into the night with him.

Without saying goodbye to my family, to my mom.

Without so much as a note—just up and go, leaving everyone to wonder where I'd gone.

In those few seconds, I wasn't even sure I wanted to go. It would have been easier if I'd vanished with the rest of the victims that night. They would have assumed me dead, and I'd been ready to go at the time, anyway. I'd been ready to avoid coming home and dealing with everything.

Avoid that awful press conference. Avoid that horrible memorial in the woods and the therapy sessions and the interrogations and Dad's contempt, Mom's worry, Kristie's hate—

All of it. I could have avoided all of it if the military hadn't rescued me—

Now, though, I  _was_  dealing with it. I was back home with my loved ones and I was expected to return to school as soon as my therapist cleared me. Everyone knew I was alive. Everyone. They would miss me if I went away. They would wonder and investigate.

They'd grieve again.

Everyone had just finished burying their loved ones.

Not to mention that I was basically crippled. Not totally incapable of moving, but I would never have the same range of motion that I used to. How would I be of any use to someone who made a living hunting and killing strange, exotic creatures?

_And humans._

"Wolf. . . ." I trailed off and wrapped my arms around myself to stop the trembling from starting up. "I—I won't heal completely. My legs aren't going to be as strong as they used to be. I—I don't know that I'll be worthy anymore."

His scrutiny angled toward my legs and he chittered what I thought was a dismissal, but I couldn't be sure.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead to relieve some of the stress. "I can't understand you, you know. How is this going to work if I can't understand you? Will you even be able to teach me your language?"

He nodded and my throat went dry.  _So much for that excuse._

At this point, I was aware I was grasping at straws and coming up with any excuse I could. Leaving home was a scary thought. The idea had been terrifying out in the woods, and it even more so now. I was  _safe_  here. Maybe not happy, but  _safe_. Who knew if I'd be happy out in the middle of the universe with an alien. I could maybe  _learn_  to be happy, but I could do that here, too.

Where I wasn't going to be some alien novelty.

Where we had Internet and fast food and showers and indoor plumbing. In a world on a planet that I knew well, with tons of luxuries that I was going to miss once I didn't have them.

However awful it made me feel to admit it to myself.

But, I was running out of excuses. Especially if he didn't think my legs were going to be an issue. The thought occurred to me that he could possibly fix them, but that seemed too good to be true. Though, they were an advanced species so I figured it wasn't that farfetched.

"You really. . .want me to come with you?" I asked.

Trying to work out his reasoning made my head spin. There couldn't be much of anything that I brought to the table. I was broken and much weaker than him. . . so what was it that made him desire my company?

Wolf leaned in and touched the tip of his claw to the mark under my collarbone. I brushed my own fingers against the scar, so close to the bite wound I'd sustained. I was covered in scars, now. The ugliest being the one on my shoulder blade—the acid burn. I would always have the surgical marks on my legs, as well. I wondered if he could see all of them even in heat vision.

_Wonder what they look like._

"This scar. . . ," I muttered. "Does this. . .make me like, your property?"

His answer was in the negative.

After thinking about it for another moment, I asked, "Does it make me one of you?"

This time, he answered in the positive. Through the mask, I could hear him say that word again—the one he had given me as an identifier, a name. I just wish I knew what it meant.

_Maybe one day._

My mouth opened and closed, but I couldn't find the words. Really, I had no more excuses to give that would justify not going with him. I wasn't sure what I was going to do on Earth, anyway, besides trudge through life in mediocrity. Maybe finish school with no friends and find a part-time job doing something I hated.

Joining him could be an adventure. At least it would be  _something._ But it was also unknown and dangerous and terrifying.

What if I wound up having to hunt those things for the rest of my days? I didn't think I'd be able to handle having to repeat that experience over and over again. I reminded myself, though, that the trophy room had all kinds of skulls, not just—

Those awful black bugs.

There were still some on Earth.

Eyes wide, I snapped my head up to look at Wolf, mouth open. "Wolf, there's something—" I quickly clamped it shut and looked away, down at my lap. My fingers curled into a fist around my sheets and I thought about what I was going to say before I made a mistake.

If I told Wolf about them, he'd go find them.

There were so many things that could go wrong if he did.

The government or whatever agency had them would capture him, surely. Kill him, or experiment on him. Sure, he probably had Brutus with him and the two of them would be a force to reckon with, but I wasn't sure if they could fight off an entire government sect. Not for long.

No way could I put Wolf in that kind of danger, not after everything. Brutus, maybe, but that was just me being petty. He hadn't actually done anything to me besides assume I was an enemy. No, for the time being, I was in a better position to see what those drones were up to and what the government was doing to or with them.

I was in the better position to  _get rid of them_.

Besides all that, if I clung to this opportunity, I would be able to postpone letting Wolf abduct me for a few days. In that time, I'd at least would be more healed, possibly even walking on my own. I'd be able to meet with the agents and have a better picture of the alien situation. If I could stall for longer than a few days, maybe I could even be  _better._

When I started physical therapy, I'd throw myself into it and try to retain as much strength and mobility that I could.

That was what I told myself, anyway. I held on to that thought like a lifeline, ignoring the fact that Wolf would be able to train and help me with all of that. With those plans, I could pretend I wasn't scared out of my mind about going along with Wolf. If I seized on to the belief that I had something to do before I could go with him, then I wasn't telling him  _no_. I was telling him to  _wait_. Just for now.

Then I could have a chance to tie up loose ends in my life. Not just up and disappear from my room in the middle of the night.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up at Wolf and squared my shoulders, my jaw set.

It still took me a minute to speak.

"I can't go with you right now. Not yet, anyway," I admitted at last, speaking slowly.

He leaned back and regarded me with curiosity.

I lifted my hand to keep him from jumping to conclusions. "There's something I have to do here first. Unfinished business. As—" I floundered for a reason that would he would buy. Something that would appeal to his nature. It clicked and I gained confidence in my speech. "—as a warrior. I need to do this before I can go with you."

Wolf seemed to consider that. We stared at each other and I tried to keep my expression as flat and confident as his mask's expression. Wolf squared his shoulders at last and dropped his chin, holding the position for a moment.

Relief washed through me and I clambered upright so I could try to be as tall as he was. "I promise. When you come back, I'll be even more worthy."

His shoulders shook with that strange chuckle of his and he gave my shoulder a hearty shake, which I tried to return. So he wasn't mad. At least, I didn't  _think_  he was mad. I thought I had a pretty good handle on how to tell his emotions apart, but with that mask. . . That mask always looked so angry.

"Will you stay and wait, or leave?" I asked after a moment.

It took him a moment to think about it—or consider how to answer in a way that I would understand. Finally, he tilted his head and spoke. Not in his language, not a recording, but in that same deep, gravelly voice he'd used to tell me I'd made a good kill.

"Time?"

_What?_

I furrowed my brow and shrugged my shoulders. He chittered in a way that I remembered was a question, and then repeated the word. "Time?"

_Oh._

"I have my first week of physical therapy starting and there's. . .something I have to look into. So, at least give me one week. In seven days, I'll come out into my backyard," I gestured in the general direction, "and wait for you there with an update."

He nodded in understanding and I hastily added, "After sunset."

That was all I needed. Some alien lurking around in my backyard all day waiting for me to show up. Atlas was already on edge as it was. I didn't need my parents letting him out only to be killed when he inevitable tried to defend his family and territory.

His answer was another nod.

I sighed with relief. A week. I had a week to come to a more permanent decision. A week to figure out what my long-term plans were going to be and when I was going to be able to see these drones ( _if_  I was going to see them at all) that the government had. After that, I'd be able to figure out what I could do about them if I should tell Wolf of their existence. . . .

_One step at a time._

Wolf gestured a farewell before turning toward my closed door.

"Wait," I said, lifting a hand. When he turned to look at me, I shifted so my legs were draped over the side of the bed. "I'll walk you out."

Though I reached for my crutches out of habit, I quickly changed my mind. I didn't want to make Wolf think I was weak and needed their help to walk—even if I did. That was mostly the doctor's orders. I'd been feeling confident in my strength, and I figured that a short walk downstairs and back up wouldn't make anything worse.

Maybe I wouldn't even have to go downstairs. I studied my window for a moment, glancing between it and Wolf as I tried to judge how big he was against the size of the opening. I'd have to remove the screen and put it back, too.

It was slightly bigger than the window in the bathroom, but unlike that one, it didn't have the roof underneath it.

Not that it mattered.

After all,  _he_ hadn't broken both his legs and a kneecap when he'd jumped out of the ship. A two-story drop would probably be nothing for him.

But, I decided in the end that he wasn't going to fit through it. Not comfortably, anyway. He might scuff the sill or the lining, and he'd have to go through it almost completely horizontally to clear the unmovable top pane.

So, I was going to have to lead him through the house. Since he'd indicated that Brutus was somewhere near the back door, I figured I'd let him out the back door.

Warily, I leaned forward and put my weight on my legs. They trembled under the pressure, but I stood up all the same. However, I only made it about as far as I had when I attempted to walk that morning—about two and a half steps. Afterwards, I stumbled and flailed my hand out to catch myself on anything I could.

Wolf was there, though, offering his thick arm as support when I nearly crumpled to the floor. I gladly used his arm to pull myself back up and was somewhat relieved when he didn't take it away. Though I tried not to make him hold much of my weight, I still needed to lean into him.

So much for not needing the crutches. It probably didn't help that I'd been in bed for the past few hours.

Hopefully, it was only balance issues. I'd had four legs for the past couple of weeks, as it were.

Once out of my room, though, there wasn't any way we were both going down the staircase side by side. Wolf was simply too. . .wide. He dropped his arm and I switched to the wall, and then to the handrail. Each step was torture and every creak the stairs made elicited a wince. Without fail, I stopped to listen to see if anyone was coming to investigate. No one ever did.

Atlas was the only one in the house who seemed to realized I was coming down the stairs. I could hear him shuffling in his kennel, making quiet noises. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, that quickly changed into a flurry of snarls and other savage sounds.

"Atlas, shh!" I pleaded, glancing up the stairs every half a second.

Wolf pointed in Atlas' direction and I waved him off. "He's part of the family. He's in his cage so he can't get us. He'll wake everyone up, though, so let's hurry."

It was easier said than done: when I tried to make haste, it caused all kinds of discomfort in my legs. No matter what I said, Atlas continued to alert the whole house that there was an alien inside. As soon as we hit the landing, Wolf grabbed my arm and hoisted me up. Not enough to carry me, but enough that I could amble toward the back door and still lead the way.

I fumbled with the lock in the dark, feeling around with my arms outstretched. Upstairs, my dad shouted at the dog and their bedroom door opened.

"Shit, shit, shit," I hissed between my teeth.

Finally, the latch turned and I yanked the door open, leaning heavily on it and shoving open the screen door. "Remember, seven days!"

_God, I sound like the ghost chick from that movie._

He nodded and vanished into thin air. I waited until his footsteps hit the grass, then closed the doors quietly before slumping to the floor, leaving them unlocked. That small trek alone had strained my underused leg muscles so much that standing on my own was arduous.

"Nichole, is that you?"

The light overhead flicked on and my eyes were assaulted with the glare. I squinted and lifted an arm—at least this way I would look properly confused.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" It was Dad. The words were barely out of his mouth before he was scooping me up into his arms. I blinked away the brightness in my eyes and looked around. I had to think fast, come up with an explanation.

None came.

"I—I'm not. . .where. . . ? How did I get—"

Dad turned the kitchen light off with his shoulder and heaved me back up the stairs. "Were you sleep walking or something? How did you get down the stairs? Did you crawl?"

"I don't know, I'm not sure," I said, tripping over my words.

When in doubt, feign ignorance.

"Dad? What's going on?" Alan's sleepy voice came from somewhere in the dark.

Kicking my door open wider with his foot, Dad paused at the threshold and leaned back. "Nothing, just go back to sleep."

"Is Nichole okay?"

"I'm okay, bud. Just—did a little bit of sleep-crawling, I guess." I was glad Mom didn't also come out to see what was happening: she would have caused a damn scene. Maybe even insisted that I sleep in their room or something equally ridiculous. Alan accepted my story without more questions and he receded back into his bedroom.

It was a good thing my family already thought I was crazy. Dad merely sighed and set me back in bed, then set my crutches up closer to me. "Am I going to have to start locking you in your room?"

I was slightly mortified my Dad saw me without pants on, but I would have to take solace in the fact that he might not remember much of this in the morning. Really should have thought this whole thing through a little better before jumping into it.

After settling in with the blankets around me, I told him, "I don't think so. . . it was probably a fluke, maybe. Just make sure my door's closed. Maybe it wasn't."

"I hope so. At least that stupid dog let us know what was going on. Good night."

"Good night," I replied, seconds before he shut the door.

Sighing, I leaned back against my pillows and stared up at the ceiling fan spinning above me. Sleep was out of the question now: I had too much to think about. Too much to process.

_How am I going to get my shit sorted out in one week?_


	27. Run in Circles

The men in black didn't show up to my session with Ava right away, but neither of us missed them that much. I was a little worried that they wouldn't show at all; mostly because I was hoping that they'd have some news for me about the bugs.

Some info, pictures, a plane ticket—anything that would give me some insight. I only had a week to decide, and this was my last session: Ava and I only met twice a week.

"How did the service go yesterday?" Ava asked, taking full advantage of their absence.

I shrugged and said, "I mean, I guess it was fine. They didn't make me talk or anything."

"But?"

Talking with her wasn't so bad. It was kind of a relief because I didn't have anyone else to talk to about. . .anything, really. There was no way I'd be able to talk to her about Wolf showing up in my room and the decision I had to make, but I could talk to her about everything else. I'd been against it before, but it was nice to be able to vent.

"After the reception at the Stanley, we had to go to the park to see the memorial," I replied, fidgeting with my fingers.

She made a sympathetic sound with her tongue. "How was that?"

"Not great," I admitted with a sigh. "My brother sat with me, though, and they didn't make me stay longer. I felt like I was going to be attacked at any moment like there was something out there watching me the entire time."

Of course, there had been, but that was beside the point.

"Did having your brother there help?"

"Kind of."

"Well, don't be afraid to use your anxiety meds if you need them. It doesn't make you weak to do what you need to in order to manage your symptoms," Ava assured me.

Though I opened my mouth to respond, a knock on the door interrupted me. Ava glanced away from me and told the person on the other side they were free to enter. The two agents walked into the room with their usual items: folders galore.

"Sorry we're late, we had to make a stop," Agent Rawlins said, closing the door behind him once Agent Cooper was inside.

"That's fine, I was hoping you guys wouldn't show up at all," Ava shot back.

For once, I didn't agree.

Cooper glared at her but otherwise let the comment slide.

"We'll be out of your hair soon enough. We're just here to show Nichole what she was asking for," Rawlins said while handing me a manila folder with a few leaflets tucked away inside.

For a second, I wasn't sure if I should take it. He raised his eyebrows at me and gave the folder a wiggle so I accepted it and flipped the folder open. My hands started trembling as I picked up the three sheets of paper, scanning the images there with some reserve—especially considering the subject of the previous pictures. Unlike the photos from their previous interrogation, these were on regular printer paper, as if they'd printed them straight from an email attachment.

And they barely revealed anything.

No matter how long I stared at the out of focus images, they refused to share with me their secrets. I spread them out on my lap, trying to paint myself a picture. The only way I could keep my hands from trembling was to clasp my hands together while I studied.

"Is this it?" I asked incredulously.

Rawlins nodded. "They didn't clear us for anything more than those. Sorry."

"You should be glad you got even that much," said Cooper.

I shot him a sour look and picked up the center picture. Each of the three was dark, but I could barely make out sleek forms behind thick glass panes. I couldn't be sure, though, as it seemed as if they'd already had time to start building their hive and it obscured the window. I could barely make out snippets of lab equipment around the fringes of the pictures.

"This is secure?" I was dubious and set the sheet in my hand back in the pile.

Nodding, Rawlins moved closer and indicated to the fogged-up glass pane in the picture. "This is two feet of reinforced bullet-proof glass. There is only one door, and it'll only open with a code that only a handful of people know. There's no other means to get in and out of that cage unless they can somehow get through the ventilation slits here, which we can seal remotely in case of emergencies."

Everything he said sounded well and good, but I remained unconvinced. "What happens if they do get out somehow?"

"Impossible," Cooper scoffed. I wondered if he was always a dick or if it was only a shtick.

We ignored him, as usual. Rawlins said, "If they somehow escape, we flash the lab. If that doesn't work, the entire building goes into lockdown until reinforcements arrive."

"What does that mean? 'Flash the lab'?" I asked, brow furrowed.

"It means," Cooper said, "we push a button and the entire lab burns to a crisp, hopefully incinerating the fuckers."

That still wasn't good enough. Not by a long shot. They were immune to acid, so how did they know whether or not they'd burn?

"Can you let me see them? In person?" I asked after a few seconds of staring at the photos some more.

There was a long moment of silence and then Cooper shook his head. "No. No, it's not possible. It took us a lot of favors to be given the clearance just to show you those three shots. So, put that thought out of your head right now."

I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest, pouting like a child. I'd thought it had been worth a try, but it wasn't like anything would happen in a week if they'd given me a yes. I would never be able to come up with a plan on the flight over and no way was I going to be able to pull off whatever misguided plan to kill them.

If I could have convinced them to let me come see the things, I might have had a reason to postpone Wolf's "abduction".

Gotta find a better word.

"Can you at least tell me what you've learned about them?" I asked. I needed to start a dialogue with them so I could figure something out so I could turn Wolf down with any sort of plausibility. Otherwise, I was just gonna have to go with him or something.

It probably wouldn't be as bad as I was making it out to be, but then again it could be even worse than what I was imagining.

The two shared a look and Cooper shrugged. "I can't tell you much. We don't have a real name for them right now, so we're just calling them 'xenomorphs.'"

"What does that mean?"

"It's a general term for extraterrestrial life until a more permanent name can be decided," Rawlins replied. "It literally means 'alien form'."

Xenomorph. I rolled the name around in my noggin. I'd been thinking of them all as drones this whole time, but that was only a role they played. Not all of them were drones, like how there were warrior ants and scout ants.

"Do you call. . .the other alien, the ones that hunt us, that?" It was hard not calling Wolf by his name in front of those chumps. Well, the name I gave him, anyway.

Cooper shook his head. "We've been referring to them as 'predators' mostly."

Fitting, if lacking in creativity.

Rawlins leaned in and gathered up the pictures, then shoved them into a folder. "If that's it, we'll leave you two now. We don't have any more questions, but we'll be in contact if we require your cooperation again."

"You're leaving?" I asked, leaning forward. They couldn't leave—not yet. Not until I could convince them to destroy those. . .xenomorphs, or let me see them.

Both agents nodded. "We have to go back now. Ava will be relocated here until she thinks your therapy can be moved to someone outside of our network. Your physical therapy will be overseen by the local doctors. We're getting out of your hair now."

"No!" It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Everyone looked at me with varying forms of curiosity and I blushed under their gazes.

Now that I had their attention, I wasn't sure how I was going to keep it. I floundered for a moment before spouting the first thing that came to my mind. "I mean. . .I—I want to speak to your superior!"

Eyes narrowed, Cooper crossed his arms over his chest. "Whatever for?"

My jaw bobbed up and down as I tried to come up with an answer, then I shook my head. "That's between your boss and me."

Smooth.

The two shared another look, then Rawlins sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, we'll see if he'd be up to giving you a call or something next week. He can't just up and leave headquarters whenever."

I opened my mouth to protest. "I'd much rather talk to him in person, so if you can make that happen I'd really appreciate it."

Agent Cooper said, "We'll do our best, but it depends on how busy things are."

That was probably the best they were going to give me, so I slumped into my chair in defeat. I had to hope that they'd find out soon.

"Okay," I sighed, still pouting. "But I need you to tell me before Tuesday, okay? Have Ava call me, I'll give you my number, whatever. I just need to know before then, okay?"

Cooper was suspicious again. "Why?"

"That's none of your business," I snorted in response.

"We'll let you know before then," Rawlings agreed, smiling warmly at me. "It's been a pleasure. We'll leave you two to it."

Rawlins led Cooper out of the room, leaving me with Ava and my mental issues. Everything hinged on whether their boss would see me or not. If he wasn't going to, I was going to have to cut my losses and leave them with the bugs. There wasn't any point in me staying here if they weren't going to allow me anywhere near them.

This was my last chance. If it didn't work, then I would have to let Wolf take me and hope the government knew what it was doing.

*:･ﾟ✧

I could handle their stares. I could handle them watching me hobble my way to my desk, leaning on the cane my physical therapist had given me. Having their eyes on me was one thing, but all of that pity, that false sympathy, and quiet murmurs were another thing entirely.

The empty desks where my classmates used to sit mocked me as I took my regular desk. Though I tried not to look, my eyes were drawn to them. I could imagine them sitting there, waiting for class to start.

I wished they were there. So I could talk to them. So I had someone else to commiserate with, who had been there. Ava was nice and helpful, but she could talk with me. Only listen.

None of the students still alive and attending knew. They could never know. And I didn't belong with them. Not anymore.

These days, I wasn't sure where I belonged. Wherever it was, it wasn't sitting quietly while some teacher prattled on about a topic I didn't care about and was of no use to me. It wasn't with people I didn't want to connect with. Couldn't connect with. Tolerate, maybe.

I'd started my physical therapy the day before, but it had mostly been stretches and some preliminary walking exercises. They'd replaced my crutches with a cane that made me feel like an old man. I could have gone with a single crutch instead of two, but I felt like a cane was easier to manage and store, not to mention it didn't hurt my armpits like the crutches had.

It was almost like walking on my own, but I would need to use it until the doctor told me I didn't have to anymore. I'd always have a limp, but I'd be able to strengthen my leg to the point where I could walk without aid.

If I ended up going with Wolf, it would probably be more impressive. At least until he fixed my legs. If he could even fix them in the first place and that wasn't just one of my flights of fancy or wishful thinking.

It was almost worth deciding to go with him if it meant I'd have full range back in my legs.

Wouldn't matter, really. I still wouldn't be able to play soccer again. Unless there was such a thing as space soccer.

Really doubted that.

"Welcome back, Nichole. It's good to see you out and about, making a recovery," Mrs. Brookes greeted me. She turned to address the class. "Please try not to bug Nichole too much, let's all give her time to readjust."

My fingers clenched a little tighter around the cane's grip, turning my knuckles white. All I wanted was to be ignored, not have the spotlight deliberately turned on me.

All the same, I muttered insincere thanks and finally sat down. I hadn't realized I was still standing until Mrs. Brookes had said something.

Maybe I shouldn't have had Ava clear me to go back to school, I thought as I pulled my textbook out of my backpack as well as my notebook. It had been necessary, though.

I had to know if I'd miss school if I went with Wolf. Honestly, I felt like the answer was going to be no but I had to be thorough.

Though there weren't a lot of people left to attend the Statistics class, I felt like an entire stadium was staring at me as I lowered myself into my seat and set my cane across my lap. There were plenty of open desks, but everyone was still in their usual positions.

Respect, habit—didn't matter why.

When I was settled in, the teacher started her lecture as soon as the bell rang. I organized my desk space, but it was mostly for show. What good was Statistics going to be? I wasn't even sure if I'd still be here to finish the school year.

Even if I was, I was certain I wouldn't want anything to do with school, with my classmates. All any of them had to offer was false platitudes and inanities. I was alone. I would probably always be alone, left with my thoughts and what I knew about the world now.

It had only been a couple days, but not hearing from either the agents or Ava was making me anxious.

I was still thinking of ways that I could convince them to let me close to the xenomorphs, and I was actually coming up with some decent ideas. Ideas that made sitting through social studies or math seem trivial.

Still needed to talk to their boss. That Dixon guy from the press conference.

Dad had been more than happy that Ava had sent home a consent form saying I was free to attend school regularly if I was feeling up to it. He'd said something about how the fresh air would do me some good.

Stupid.

"How are you feeling?"

The whispered voice startled me back into my present mind and I glanced over to the only occupied desk next to me. My former teammate, Gabby, was giving me a worried look.

"Fine," I replied mechanically. "Just tired."

She nodded and returned her eyes to the front. I was completely lost trying to figure out how far behind I was.

Maybe if I was lucky, I could skate by with a couple Cs or Ds until the end of the year.

Halfway through the lecture, my phone vibrated in my pockets. I flinched like I'd been hit, gaining the attention of a few nearby students. Blushing, I pretended it hadn't happened and reached into my pocket.

After some fumbling, I stopped the vibrations by pressing the volume control buttons.

It had to be Ava or one of the agents. Ava had requested my number as soon as I parents bought me a new cell phone, insisting that I call her at any hour of the day (or night) for whatever reason so she could help me through emergencies.

Presently, I hadn't taken her up on that offer, preferring to self-soothe.

My phone felt like it weighed a thousand pounds in my pocket, dragging me down. It had buzzed once again to let me know I had a message, and the anticipation made my hands tremble. I considered for a moment that it was Mom being herself, trying to check in and leave me a stupid message like "Hey sweetie, just wanted to wish you a good day, I love you!"

If that was the case, I was going to be so mad—getting my hopes up. For nothing.

For the rest of the class, I had the terrible urge to pull my phone out long enough to check my missed call log. I didn't want to get in trouble my first day but near the end of Statistics, I couldn't ignore it anymore. When the teacher had her back turned to write on the board, I whisked my phone from my pocket and pulled up the missed calls.

Relief was quickly chased away by apprehension. Those red letters spelling Ava's name were a beacon in this otherwise desolate wasteland of my life; the first chance I had at figuring out where my life was headed.

As expected, there was an icon in the top corner that told me I one new message.

A yes meant that I could postpone my trip to space. A no meant that I would have to suck it up and let the government handle things.

Or, I supposed, I could just tell Wolf no and not go into space at all. That's an option.

Of course, he could just pick me up and carry me off anyway if he really wanted to. I didn't know how much respect the mark on my chest netted me.

The bell shrieked and the sound of my own desperate cry mingled with it. I stood abruptly, phone skittering across the floor and chair shoved backward. My cane clattered to the ground and I stumbled over the legs of my desk but fought to stay upright despite the sharp pain in my knee.

"Nichole?"

My whole body shook as I came back to reality. I was gulping air and felt unsteady on my feet, but Gabby was holding my cane out to me, her eyes wide. I stared at her for a moment, then slowly took my cane back and let it take my weight.

"Nichole are you okay?" Mrs. Brookes asked. She had already found her way through the desks and was standing before me.

When I nodded, it was jerky and forced. I shifted my weight and rubbed my face with my palm. Over the sound of whispers, I heard them—the snickers and the jibes. "I'm fine. I just. . .the bell just startled me, that's all."

"If you need to go home—"

"No," I hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm fine. It won't happen again."

Without another word, I turned and shoved my belongings into my bags. Mrs. Brookes hovered, then turned toward the rest of the students to say, "Read chapters sixteen and seventeen tonight and complete the worksheets at the end of each. Class dismissed."

I waited until the room had cleared to leave—I didn't really want to fight to get through the door—picked up my phone, and hurried to my locker as fast I could. Once there, I struggled to remember my combination but finally pulled the door open.

It was kind of difficult leaning my weight on the cane while I tried to shove the next subject's textbooks and notes into my backpack, but I was managing. At least I could let my pack hang on my shoulder and keep my one free hand free.

Then, I wanted to check my phone.

Around me, other students chattered and laughed. I called my voicemail and covered my other ear with a hand to block out the background noise.

Ava's voice blared from the receiver. "Hello Nichole, it's Ava. I heard back from the goon squad today and they said their boss will meet you. He won't be able to fly out right away, but he'll make it for our next session. After that, I'll have you all to myself! No need to call me back unless you want to. Have a good day!"

The message ended and a lady's voice went through my options. I deleted the message and closed my locker so I could lean my forehead against it, drawing comfort from the cool steel against my skin.

Everything was coming into place. I wouldn't meet with the big boss until after I saw Wolf again, but that was fine.

I knew what I had to do. What I could do. Now it was just breaking the news to Wolf.

"Raah!"

The sound was right in my ear and someone grabbed my shoulder. I dropped my phone and tensed until my muscles hurt. When I turned, I turned around swinging my cane with a grunt, landing a solid blow against my attacker. They cried out and crumpled and I raised my impromptu weapon to—

It was just a person.

A boy, one from my previous class. Someone who had witnessed my episode.

For a moment, I stood there with my cane raised over my head and poised to strike. Once my pulse started to stabilize, I looked down at him with disdain. The desire to smack him again was strong, but one I could resist. He had one hand up to defend himself, the other clutching his shin.

"Jesus Christ! It was only a joke!"

Words failed me and I slowly lowered my cane to regain the balance I was quickly losing.

A joke?

A joke? Well, I wasn't laughing.

"What is going on here? Danny, Ni—oh. Uh, welcome back Nichole." The teacher that came to investigate was one of the music teachers. I had been in his class when I played the flute, but that hadn't lasted long. They were required classes when I started high school, but I had absolutely no musical talent so I dropped it as soon as I'd completed the credit.

"She hit me! With her stupid cane!" Danny said, standing up with a wince. I was glad the teacher said his name, or else I would have never remembered it.

Mr. Woods turned toward me, brow furrowed. "Is that true?"

Despite the situation being over, leftover adrenaline still coursed through my veins. My thoughts were incoherent at best and I motioned in Danny's general direction, saying, "He—he came up and startled me! On purpose! I didn't mean. . .I wouldn't have if I'd known—"

On some level, I knew I was babbling and making myself look even more guilty. Danny was going to get me in trouble, though. And on my first day, for something that was his fault!

Mr. Woods put his hands on his hips and I braced myself for the lecture, but he turned his stern gaze on Danny instead. "What in the hell made you think that was an okay thing to do?"

Danny averted his gaze and hunched his shoulders. "I don't know, but she—she still hit me! You can't just—"

"Get out of here," the music teacher sighed, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. "Consider this your only warning. If you need to, go to the nurse and get an ice pack."

"But—"

"Go!"

People had stopped to watch, whispering amongst themselves. I ignored their gawks and started toward my next class, but Mr. Woods beckoned for me to follow him. So instead of a public reaming, I was going to be lectured in the privacy of his classroom.

He led me through the hall and motioned for me to enter his room first before indicating that I should have a seat. The room was built with levels, like a real orchestra, withstands lining each one in front of chairs. I pushed one of the music stands aside before plopping down and waiting.

"How's your first day coming back?" he asked as he took his own seat behind the desk.

I shrugged and stared at my lap. "Fine I guess. Well, it was, at least. Everyone was being nice and stuff."

He nodded. "Well, just so you know the teachers are all more than willing to help. If you have any more issues with the students here, don't be afraid to speak up."

"Sure, I'll remember that."

"That being said," he continued, rapping the top of his desk with his knuckles, "you probably should try hard not hit the other students."

Fire burned in my chest and I leaned forward. "Mr. Woods, I didn't mean to, he—"

A raised hand cut me off and I clamped my teeth together. "I understand you went through a lot and it wasn't smart of him to play a joke like that. You're not in trouble, I just have to make sure to bring it up with you, okay?"

Begrudgingly, I nodded.

The warning bell rang and I exhaled sharply, twitching in my seat. When I looked back up at Mr. Woods, he was giving me a sympathetic smile. "I'll give you a note in case you're late to your next class."

While he scribbled said note, I collected my things and struggled to stand. I took the piece of paper and thanked him before heading to the door. When he called out to me, I barely even slowed down. "Remember, you can talk to us if you need to!"

I didn't want to talk. Not to him, not to anyone at this school. The only person I wanted to speak to next was Wolf, and that was still a weekend away.

Just a little longer, I told myself.

Plenty of time to rehearse exactly what I was going to tell him.


	28. Watch Time Fly By

The rest of the week continued about how I had expected it to. I'd lost the majority of my friends in one fell swoop, and now people weren't sure how to act around me. To be fair, I wasn't sure how to act around them, either. I endured their stares and their whispers as much as I could and smiled when they tried to me nice to me. If anything, I could be grateful that I didn't have anyone trying to scare me. Not after I had laid Danny out.

That weekend I played catch up with my school work. Several students from my classes had been more than happy to share the notes I'd missed, and the teachers had completely dismissed the assignments I hadn't completed, telling me to do my best for the rest of the year. They couldn't give me full marks, but they at least wouldn't give me an zeroes. I took copies of the notes with my Dad's printer, intent on returning them to their owners the next time I was at school.

Homework was even more of a chore than I remembered, but it was a good distraction. Busy work while I tried to figure out what I was going to say to Wolf when I saw him. It kept my mind off all the other things, too.

I had more trouble with what I was going to say than I wanted. Guilt crept up my spine like a weed, convincing me that he was going to be disappointed. Why, I wasn't really sure. How would this disappoint him? He was probably doing  _me_ a favor by taking me away from this. It couldn't possibly be that he  _wanted_  a human to take care of.

Though, maybe that was the case. He'd already gone through all this trouble to track me down and try to steal me away in the middle of the night.

The days passed by too quickly. As the sun started to dip below the horizon on Tuesday night, an overwhelming sense of dread hovered over me. I found a very difficult series of emotions that ranged from anticipation to worry to anxiety and all other things. What was certain was that I was looking forward to seeing him again, but not the conversation itself.

Looking forward to seeing him. I couldn't explain that one to myself if I tried.

As the day trudged on, I more than once caught myself imagining what he'd been doing for these past seven days. Had help arrived to un-strand him from my planet? I figured that had to be the case, otherwise why would he have tried to collect me without a means of leaving.

My favorite theory was that he and Brutus had spent their time wrestling bears or something out in the mountains. If anything, it brought a smile to face imagining it.

_Stupid macho aliens._

"What are you doing in your heavy clothes?" Mom asked as I struggled down the stairs later that night.

I didn't speak as I concentrated, then answered her once I was safely down the steps. "I'm gonna go outside for a little bit. Get some fresh air."

"It's getting dark out, though."

"I want to see the stars."

Mom and Dad glanced at each other, then shrugged. "Alright sweetie. Stay warm, okay? It's supposed to snow some more tonight. Don't stay out too long?"

Nodding, I opened the door to the backyard, told Atlas to stay and locked the doggy door, then made my way through the mush of half-melted snow toward the swing set. Dad had installed the sandbox and small playground when Alan was born so we all had a reason to go outside—because living five minutes away from any number of hiking trails wasn't good enough.

The last thing I wanted to do was let Wolf see me walking with aid, so I tossed my cane aside once I reached the swings and wasted time with practicing some of the exercises my doctor had given me. They made my legs ache, but it was a good kind of pain.

Finally, the sun disappeared and the stars came out, twinkling in the heavens. I leaned back in the swing and stared up at them as I swayed back and forth, wondering if they'd look any bigger in space.

Back in the house, Atlas was barking up a storm. I sat up a little straighter and looked around. It was dark now and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to see Wolf the same way I could when it was bright out. It had been so dim on the ship that I'd barely been able to make out the shimmering air effect they made when invisible.

Now that I knew they didn't actually need light to see like we did, I figured it must have been a secondary effect. Like they used the lights to heat up their surroundings or something.

The door creaked open across the yard and I looked up in time to see Atlas tearing toward me, his ears flopping with each leap and bound.

"Mom, what are you doing?" I demanded.

"Atlas won't shut up. I think he wants to be outside with you. The doggy door got locked somehow. Throw the ball for him a couple times," she suggested before going back inside. I opened my mouth to protest, but her shadow was already disappearing back into the living room.

Whining, Atlas shoved his nose under my hand, tail wagging. He occasionally turned toward the trees behind our fence and growled, but he stopped when I admonished him.

"Now, Atlas," I said quietly, taking his face in both of my hands. He tried to pull away a couple times, but I forced him to look at me. I gently massaged his cheeks and touched my nose to his. "I have a visitor coming, okay? You're  _going_  to be nice to him okay? Otherwise he might try to kill you and I really don't want that."

His only response was a gentle whine, followed by a lick to my face. I spluttered and pulled back, wiping my nose on my sleeve. "No kisses!"

He whined at me and fidgeted, but his tail was still wagging.

"Alright, I'm glad we understand each other," I chuckled, letting his head go. "Now where's your ball? Go get your ball!"

The reaction was instantaneous. The moment the word "ball" was out of my mouth, he was flitting across the yard, frantically searching for one of his many tennis balls. He found two and somehow managed to bring both of them to me after some trouble fitting them in his mouth. I rolled my eyes and picked the less slobbery of the two.

"I can only throw one, you stupid dog," I cooed. He backed up a few paces, tongue lolling from his mouth, and I wiggled the ball in the air, making him twitch with anticipation. Finally, I flung it across the yard. "Fetch!"

Atlas chased after the ball each time I threw it until he was too tired to continue—which was fine with me because my arm was tired as well. We played fetch for probably fifteen minutes before he stopped and flopped to the ground. I watched him chew on the tennis ball for a little bit before I called over to him.

"C'mere boy."

He picked up the ball and trotted over to me, dropping it in the snow-covered sand. It was past the slobber threshold for me—the consistency was a little too similar to  _theirs_  for my comfort—so I didn't touch it, but I did pick up the other ball and throw that. Atlas observed it fly across the yard, ears perked.

However, he didn't chase it. Despite this, it came flying back through the darkness of the night and landed at my feet. Atlas' fur stood on end and his hackles raised. I stopped my swinging as well, just as he started to growl.

"Atlas," I crooned, leaning forward to pet his rump. He didn't flinch or stop looking into the pitch black yard. His growl grew in volume, and then he lowered his head and peeled his lips away from his teeth.

 _Perfect._  This was exactly what I had been trying to avoid. I doubted Wolf would kill my dog, but I wasn't positive. I definitely couldn't trust Brutus not to try something.

"This is the visitor I was telling you about, come here and sit."

There was no budging him. He stayed right there in front of me, warning off the invisible intruder in front of us.

Finally, Wolf showed himself. Atlas didn't move or start barking, but his growl turned into a more menacing snarl. I reached out and took the tip of his tail in my hand, wiggling it a little bit, but he didn't so much as glance back at me.

Sighing, I pushed out of the swing and carefully lowered myself into the sand next to him. I knew I had to be cautious around a dog during their threat display, but I was sure he wouldn't hurt me on purpose. Atlas finally acknowledged me, but did not relax.

"It's alright," I whispered, rubbing his neck and ears. Turning my attention to Wolf, I said, "He  _shouldn't_ hurt you. He's just protective."

From where I was, I barely made out the derisive sound Wolf made before he ambled toward us. Atlas stiffened under my arms, and when Wolf was too close for his comfort, he pulled out of my grasp and shot forward meet Wolf.

"Atlas, no! Wolf don't hurt—"

For a brief second, I was certain I was about to lose my dog. I expected those three red dots to show up right before he lost his cute little head. I searched frantically for Brutus, but if he was around, he wasn't showing himself.

However, Atlas stopped just short of reaching Wolf and tried to warn him off with a few angry barks. I staggered to my feet and stumbled toward them, casting furtive glances toward the house. The kitchen remained dark, though.

Each step was unsteady and difficult, but I grit my teeth and bared it, trying to look as steady as possible as I made my way to my dog.

Wolf looked down at Atlas, head tilted, and squatted in front of him. Atlas took a step back, but didn't stop growling and baring his teeth. Wolf growled back at him, but Atlas didn't waver. I was half expecting Atlas to latch on to his arm at any moment, but he was more keen on looking intimidating and trying to assert his dominance.

At last I reached them and I managed to keep myself from collapsing while I fought to kneel down at my dog's side. I was careful to make sure Atlas knew I was there before I grabbed a hold of his collar and pulled. He turned long enough to slap me with his tongue, as if to say that he had everything under control, then gave Wolf his undivided attention and one last growl before he fell silent. He kept his ears down and teeth bared, pink tongue licking his lips every few seconds.

The two of them stared at each other, and then Wolf turned toward me and rattled off a question. I tried to pull Atlas away again but he was intent to keep as much of his fuzzy body between me and the strange alien as possible.

"I can't go with you." I blurted out at last, meeting his gaze as much as I could.

He tilted his head and waited for the explanation to come. I was expecting more of a prompt, but he just waited silently.

"I have. . .things to hunt here. Until I can, um, finish this hunt, I won't be ready to come with you. But when I am done, I'll be ready." It had taken almost the whole week to compose this in a way he'd understand and accept, and still I found it hard to say without wavering. The "interrogations" with Cooper and Rawlins had helped.

They were hunters—that was their culture.

For a few minutes Wolf considered me. As he started to stand, I let go of Atlas and stood on shaky legs, but I kept my head high and met his impassive gaze. I was trembling, but more because of the cold than any real fear. I'd been outside a lot longer than I'd anticipated.

When he finally responded, he dipped his head and reached out once more to shake my shoulder. Atlas let out a warning growl but didn't move. I had the presence of mind to return the gesture, though it compromised my balance and nearly toppled me. He grabbed my arm and steadied me, and I was glad Atlas didn't take that a threatening move.

"I'll find a way to contact you somehow. I don't. . .know how, but. . .I'll find a way," I said with a sharp nod.

His shoulders shook with his rumbling laughter and he lifted his arm with the computer. I watched him with mild interest as he punched in a sequence, then unhooked the computer part from his wrist and handed it to me.

It wasn't too heavy, but it was still heavier than I expected and I almost dropped it. I looked it over, turning it in my hands, then stared up at Wolf. Surely he was going to elaborate.

"What do I do?" I asked after a second.

He leaned forward and mimed a sequence for me. After the third repetition, I mimicked him, indicating toward the weird symbols in the order he'd demonstrated. Wolf nodded and motioned for me to repeat it a few more times. When I did so with more and more confidence, he finally pulled away with a satisfied nod of his head.

"If I do that, you'll know to come?"

Another nod.

 _Okay, that's a start._  My stomach twisted with excitement. He would be a phone call away, kind of. "Won't it take you years to travel across the universe to come back?"

Wolf rattled his response and indicated in the negative. I wasn't sure exactly how long it would take him, but at least the answer wasn't "years". I wondered if it was hooked up to his ship but figured it wasn't important how it worked, just that it  _did_.

"What if it runs out of power?" I asked.

At first he didn't immediately answer. I watched him and waited for a response, but I was forced to take in his body language—expanded chest, squared shoulders. . . oh. I lowered my head and smiled sheepishly. "I guess that's a stupid question."

He reached out, rattling quietly, and did that patronizing head pat. It seemed he was about to leave, but he stopped and turned back toward me. I tilted my head to the side, shivering from the cold. Standing without my cane was also becoming difficult with time.

There was something attached to his waist, and he untied it. With one hand he held it out to me and I accepted it without hesitation. It was another piece of jewelry, this time lined with sharp yellow teeth the size of my pinky fingers.

I looked up at Wolf, my mouth slightly open. "Is this—are these from the queen?"

Nodding, he pointed at the spot on my chest where the mark was, then to the leather thong with teeth strung to it. The chittering he made had no meaning to me, but I thought I understood the gist of what he was saying.

So that's what they'd been doing. Salvaging stuff from the ship. I wondered if they'd destroyed it yet or if the government had seized the scraps. Wolf and Brutus had needed their trophies, and the queen was one hell of a trophy.

Though I couldn't mount her skull on my wall, she was as much my kill theirs.

My fingers tightened around the trinket, careful not to poke myself on the sharp fangs, and I brought it in close to my chest. This held so much more value than the one he had given me before. This one celebrated a victory, not a defeat. I was going to make sure the government didn't confiscate this one. I was going to have to be careful to keep the computer hidden, too.

"Thank you. For everything," I said.

Wolf inclined his head and looked to Atlas, who hadn't made a peep since I'd shown no discomfort. My dog's muscles were still tense, but at least he was quiet. Wolf chuffed a few words, assumed to be for the dog, and then he disappeared into the shadows. I couldn't even hear his footsteps on the slowly freezing slush, and I could scarcely make out his shimmering form as he jumped over my six foot fence.

Then he was gone, vanished into the trees. I was glad I hadn't had to see Brutus again, but I was still curious as to his whereabouts.

_Doesn't matter._

I waited a couple minutes longer, then limped back to the sandbox to fetch my cane. My legs were on fire, demanding rest, but I still had to make it into the house.

Still had to sneak my new belongings up to my room.

*:･ﾟ✧

"Someone really did that?"

"No," I said, arms crossed over my chest. "He snuck up behind me, grabbed my shoulder, and shouted in my ear."

Huffing, Ava tapped her pencil against her notepad and shook her head. She had asked me about school and we were talking about ways to deal with my jumpiness, so I had decided to tell her about the incident with Danny.

"What did you do after that?" she asked.

I looked down at my lap and worried a stray thread from my jeans. "I hit him with my cane and bruised his shin."

She rubbed her face and sighed. "That's a perfectly normal reaction. There's really no wrong way to deal with something like that, so don't feel bad Nichole."

"Yeah, no one really blamed me. He wasn't happy about being hit but I didn't get in trouble."

"Good, good." Ava smiled. "But hopefully you didn't hurt him too bad?"

"No permanent damage," I muttered.

"Is that your general reaction when you feel threatened like that? To attack?" she asked, turning on her "therapist voice."

Shrugging, I finally pulled the thread free. "I guess so."

"I figured it would be. Everyone has the fight or flight reflex. You just happen to have a strong fight reflex. Nothing wrong with that at all. Do you ever. . .have flashbacks when you're startled?"

I shrugged. "Sometimes? I. . .think back to the aliens. Sometimes it's my friend's deaths. When he grabbed me. . .I thought one of those things had found me again."

She nodded and scribbled down a note while saying, "Has your dad given you any more issues about anything?"

Before I could answer, someone knocked on the door. I turned in my seat to watch Ava answer, and when she opened it a familiar man greeted her. I recognized him from the press conference.

"Hello, Ava," he said, sounding disgruntled. "I came to meet with Nichole?"

"Ah, yes!" Ava said, clapping once. She stepped aside to allow Mr. Dixon inside the office. "Thank you for coming, I know it means a lot to Nichole."

"Yes, so I heard." Mr. Dixon looked anything but happy to be there. When he spotted me, he nodded a greeting and summoned a smile to his unshaven face. "I trust Ava told you I was coming to see you today?"

"Yes, thank you for coming," I said, more as a formality, as I stood up to greet him properly. I'd made sure to wear my nicest shirt and jeans to meet with him, and I made an effort to give him a firm handshake.

An awkward silence descended until Ava cleared her throat and clasped her hands together. "Nichole, would you like me to stay here with you while you two talk, like I have been with Agents Cooper and Rawlins?"

I looked up at her, then smiled and shook my head. "No, I'll be alright. I'd like to talk him alone, if that's okay."

She hesitated, but agreed nonetheless. "That's fine. Are your parents here? I'd like to have a few words with them, whether it's your mom or dad or both."

"Um, my mom's in the waiting room. Is something wrong?"

"Oh no! I just like to chat with the parents sometimes, see if I can't help them better help you when I can't be around."

"Oh, okay. Sure, that's fine."

Before leaving, she said, "I'll come back when Mr. Dixon leaves."

"Thank you."

Mr. Dixon readjusted his suit while Ava stepped outside, closing us into the room alone. The click sounded almost final. Mr. Dixon glanced behind him, then put his hands in his pocket and looked at me. "I hope my agents treated you well?" he asked.

"As well as possible," I said. "Cooper's been kind of mean."

"Ah, I apologize. I'll have a word with him about it."

I shook my head and said, "No, it's fine. He was just. . .doing his job I guess. Ava helped keep them under control."

He indicated to the chair behind me and suggested, "You can sit if you'd be more comfortable like that."

"No, no it's fine."

Another slightly awkward silence followed as I tried to gather my courage to speak my mind. He cleared his throat and prompted me. "So, what can I do for you, Ms. Shain?"

Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself. I had been imagining this moment since Ava had left me the message. After the speech I gave Wolf, failure was not an option. No matter what it took, I had to convince this man. If I didn't, there was no way I was going to be able to call Wolf back.

Wolf was probably expecting trophies, since I'd told him I needed to finish a hunt. I supposed if Mr. Dixon rejected me, I could just go hunt anything and grab a skull, but I'd always know I failed.

He scrutinized me, then let his hand fall to his side. "Ms. Shain?"

Squaring my shoulders, I inhaled one last time and just came out with it. "Mr. Dixon, I want you to hire me."


	29. Epilogue: Tomorrow Came

I had to look the part. I had to act the part. I couldn't give them any reason to be suspicious of my motives. I had been careful, meticulous even. What did they have to be suspicious of, anyway?

_"_ _There's a lot of rigorous training involved. Do you think you can handle it?"_

Uncomfortable dark-gray slacks: check. Itchy white blouse: check. Slightly too-tight flats: check. A jacket that was tough to move in: check. It was my official "first day on the job, dress to impress" outfit. Once I took a saw what everyone else wore on a day to day basis, I could adjust.

_"_ _You're already qualified, really. Not many people know of the existence of alien life outside our solar system."_

My fingers wove strands of my ashy-brown hair into a single braid; it lay flat at the center of my back, barely reaching the bottom of my shoulder blades. They plucked short bangs into position in front of my face. Every lock in place. I smoothed back strays and tamed them with hairspray.

_"_ _Whatever position you think would fit, you can be schooled or take training for it."_

The last addition of makeup concealed the visible scars peeking out from under the v-line of my shirt: gnarled burn scars that wrapped from shoulder blade to clavicle. An alien symbol denoting that I was more than human. That there was someone waiting for my call.

But it didn't feel like  _me_  if I couldn't see them. I stared at my reflection a while, then washed the makeup away. If people started to complain, I would cover them up but I wasn't ashamed.

They were a badge of honor.

_"_ _We'll be in touch when you finish high school."_

Even now, years after the accident, I found it difficult to stand in one place for too long. Moving was easier, and regular jogs kept me active. I'd had two more surgeries to help lessen the limp.

I stood back from the mirror, straightened my clothes one last time, and took a few deep breaths. Hanging from the corner of my vanity was a talisman made of leather and fangs. I ran my fingertips over the line of digit-sized teeth, then turned away to my dresser.

_"_ _There's a series of background checks. You'll need a certain level of security clearance to work with us. It could take a while, on top of all the training. . . ."_

As was becoming a habit, I pulled open the third drawer from the bottom and shoved aside my shirts, revealing the computer Wolf had loaned me. I flipped the top back to show the strange symbols, and, with a finger, pantomimed the sequence that would call him to me.

All I could do for now was hope that he hadn't forgotten about me. The last thing I needed was to wait for one of his kind to show up for a hunting trip, then have to convince them to take me along for the ride.

Though, wasn't that was his mark was for?

With the code now committed not only to memory, but to my mind, body, and soul, I buried the piece of technology once more before heading out the door. The government had paid for my move and provided rent vouchers until I started receiving paychecks.

Twenty years old and I already had a career, no matter how temporary. I couldn't help the shit-eating grin that pulled at my lips.  _Here I come, motherfuckers._

I had a job to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, readers!
> 
> I've been working on something - original content! I made a patreon to help with my project, so head over there at /kaylanhodge to learn more! Don't worry, fanfiction will still continue to be posted on the usual (ir)regular schedule!
> 
> ~ Crayola


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